On Ship Rock

We make love
and a strong wind kicks up
cascading through
the jumble of huge boulders
we shelter under

I go out and retrieve my blue shirt
certain it will be carried off
or someone on the trail below
will see it flapping like a flag

The stark heat
coyotes at dawn
announcing their departure
and the wind crashing
over and through ship rock
finding us naked

The Dancers

They didn’t understand street clothes.
They struck odd poses in public.

They used anything 3 feet high to stretch on.
They walked without seeing.

Cigarettes magically appeared in their hands.
They said merde alot.

They heard strange music without Ipods.
They ate small things.

They wondered why everyone didn’t fly.
Fingers in their backs was the best sensation.

Fingers in their backs was better than sex.
Singers annoyed them.

They took their clothes off in front of anyone.
Light emanated from their limbs.

Crazy laughter flew out of their mouths.
They often thought about circles.

Butoh for 200,000

We shave our heads and paint our bodies white

the light grew bigger and there was a flash
the tremendous noise came and we were left in the dark

starkly clothed we walk slowly towards the stage

my clothes gone my skin was peeling and hanging
everything had collapsed for as far as I could see

we breathe in through the nose out through open mouths

I saw a young girl naked muttering, “Mother, water, mother, water.”
the city was wrapped in red flames

arms like bird wings fingers dripping pearls

Fire was blowing into the sky
all the houses had collapsed for as far as I could see

sacred fluid drips in fine threads from our open mouths

the sky was blue and clear then it was dark
I could only see people’s shadows

our eyes gaze past twenty mountains

I smelled something like sulfur, like the volcano Mt. Aso
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t find my shadow

breath like smoke fills our lungs with roses

I saw the bright cloud growing in the sky
It caught the light and it showed every color of the rainbow

fingers reach toward the moon like a baby

small pieces about canyons

the canyon is calling don’t touch me
and first i have to have a
say ted and joe fragments
maybe it’s because those

and first i have to have a
people have left
maybe it’s because those
their personal items

people have left
them scattered
their personal items
of course that’s what it is

them scattered
when you ask me not to make you
of course that’s what it is
scattered all over our house

when you ask me not to make you
fragmenting break down
scattered all over our house
I will put them on a plane

fragmenting break down
then I will just I will just
I will put them on a plane
and first i have to have a

then I will just I will just
say ted and joe fragments
and first i have to have a
the canyon is calling don’t touch me

Antiochian Sonnets

X

O god of shirts with a small brown band
thank you for your answers
and you who sit in the head chair
throwing small pieces of paper at us

the group of poesies for which the sonnet is
so alluring thank you for shutting me up
there is no such thing as a breakdown
can you imagine _____ attending a workshop?

Uphold the great muse fiction!
poetry shouldn’t be about your boring life
we apologize for the inconvenience
this is insurgent art

and it’s always the fiction
the fucking fiction

XVVX

Maybe it could be played around
That line just left me wanting a little more
I am a little confused about the perspective of the
I start getting tripped up in stanza #

I think a lot of my questions could be answered with a
Could be amped up
…or so I’m guessing
Made a bit more

I wonder if you can twist these
Take them even
I do wonder about some of the
I do wonder about

It flows better It flows better
I love your poem as a Limerick. It flows better

XIX

so alluring thank you for shutting me up
this is insurgent art
poetry shouldn’t be about your boring life
we apologize for the inconvenience

thank you for your answers
and it’s always the fiction
throwing small pieces of paper at us
uphold the great muse fiction!

can you imagine _____ attending a workshop?
there is no such thing as a breakdown
the fucking fiction
O god of shirts with a small brown band

the group of poesies for which the sonnet is
and you who sit in the head chair

VVVIL

so alluring thank you for I love your poem as a Limerick
this is insurgent art that just left me wanting a little more
a lot of my questions could be answered with your boring life
…or so I’m guessing

I start getting tripped up in we apologize for the inconvenience
maybe it could be stanza #
thank you for your answers take them even

I do wonder about the throwing small pieces at us
It flows better it flows better uphold the great muse fiction!
I am a little confused about attending a workshop?
Could be a bit more amped up fiction

I do wonder about O god of shirts
the group for which there is no such thing as a breakdown

the sonnet is you who sit in the head chair

reductant

O with band
you for answers
sits the head
throwing

for which
you for
there is as a
can _____ ?

muse!
shouldn’t your boring
inconvenience
this

and always
fucking

IXIIMII

I am a little confused about the perspective of the
I start getting tripped up in stanza #
I wonder if you can twist these
I do wonder about some of the

I love your poem as a Limerick
I wanted it to be
I think a lot of
I’m guessing

I love your
I wonder if
I am a little
I start getting

me wanting
my questions

Passage Interdit Aux Musulmans

~ after Tung-Hui Hu, “Passage Interdit Aux Non Musulmans”

Moses came down from the mountains and in Texas
they try to bring a red heifer
back to claim this place. In the dry heat

plants and shade trees surround you and men say
Ahlan wa Sahlan! “you’re like my family, welcome and take it easy!”
and will not let you leave. You are sitting on someone

else’s land, olive groves cleared by deception.
Now the security wall straddles and pounds the earth
as you lift the small teacup from the tray.

One day the city will be all ours again,
shouldn’t it be so? The dome collapsed the
crescent removed only a wall and a star

remaining or perhaps only the land
and a cross.

Commute the corner

spiral graffiti new pink paint
middle of the street is not an outside plant

house has on a yield sign
going downhill backwards your lane

bright blue building operating a table saw
philodendrons are on a two lane street

they have taken over while still there
watching me pass by the corner

over new pink paint

middle of the street is a yield sign
spiral graffiti on your lane

while house has a table saw operating
building going downhill over backwards

watching me pass by new pink paint
bright blue philodendrons are not over the corner

while still there still there
they have taken an outside plant on a two lane street

there over the corner

going downhill a table saw
middle of the street is operating graffiti

spiral me backwards on a two lane street
pass by while over new pink paint

building philodendrons are not watching your lane
they have taken on an outside plant

still the bright blue corner house has a yield sign

Splash fish

~ for Joseph Ceravolo

O whitest white of
inky black space
whenever did it click
click click

I can see
smiling with your paper
shoes and some New York
cigarette in the
trees

was it something I said?
Or did you just land
like that Careful
provoke the wild

Splash fish, ah
Spring!

Desert Lines

we hear the wind coming at us

a small cloud hangs in the naked blue sky

we climb sharp rocks to look out higher

raven rustles its wings overhead

the wind rivers around boulders

we see the San Bernardinos 80 miles away

Joshua Trees guard the silence

coyote crosses near us and looks back

mountains crumble to boulders to rocks to sand

a huge carp shaped rock dreams of water

Pasadena

heavy crafted homes
low and squat
one hundred years
on oak tree
streets many were
blighted but now
there are mahogany
or deep red
doors heavy drapes
drawn against bright
sky windows shut
out hot desert
wind close purple
mountains shaded trails
beckon do they
notice the wide
porches are now
vacant the warm
arid climate too
warm and arid
my home town