Blackhole Whiskers Cheek

 (did i ruin it?

the scanner does

terrible things to the colors.

more to come.)

click to see it larger

Blackhole Cheek Whiskers

(about to color it! --

but my brother said i'd ruin it,

so here, unadulterated.

finished version on its way.)

click to see it larger

"T R U"

city blocks
populate like ant colonies
personal installments of
       logic +
       functional dung shells,
reminiscent of vanity mirror cubes.
eyes sore
from courting radiation --
legs atrophied
from lack of use.


foreigners mistaking the Statue of Liberty
             for performance art --
     thoughts of futility, cycles,
               determinism, chaos.
          "NOT A T R U   STREET"


   and by the time
this wandering orbit
  swings me back to
                  sympathy and
                  empathy and humanity,
                    i'll have exhausted this
                    grapefruit store of iron --
                    i'll be weak.


   still stumbling
for a nostalgic future,
mind in secret shapes --
    sleepwalking.


sitting on stacks of books,
opening cans of concrete,
it's rained
so everything should be clearer.

"visions of death"

visions of death
   pass before me:
         hawk woman-boy
                                           followed by
         Death's shadow
                                          followed by
         gaping walrus black man
                                        followed by
         twin ogre abuelitas.


an omen,
   a station of the cross,
   golden tableau:
     a homeless man,
                                     an Untouchable,
                a pid-geon
     with arms stretched to Heaven,
                                                           dying
     beside his shopping cart chariot.

"LES ROIS"

el otro bodhisattvo
    y San Slumber
 et l'esprit de dandelion --
      LES ROIS du paradis ici.


une fille d'été
        and Marley child,
             sweet boy --
   tumbling and stepping,
   Father only watching.


rascal acrobats
   of the city architecture
   tap staccato morse code poems
   on gummed black concrete.


on foot through these hoods and barrios,
                                              my home:
(dark Achilles blood
     soaks my sock,       stains my boot)

Four Stems

Orion hunts under the moon --
everything is alive
i see


--


illusion of the door closing in the dark
a play of shadows on the black mirror
in the dusk room      my lover's camera


--


a hundred crows    cawing maccabre
in the haunted blue dawn --
puddles trap the echo    wings cut the fog,
wires sag    beneath the black bodies


--


bone thin boys in a dim garage --
   "hold on,
       i lost my phone in my hair"

Three Poems Found Between Sleep + Awake

my heart   warm expanding
spinning beat spills
from my left breast   like a Navajo sunrise.

--

you strange nymph --
because you are so,
i don't mind
  that i may hold you   for only a moment.
you appear in the shimmering nowhere of my dream,
and there you will have or resist me.

--

against the white noise of rain    i see
your eyes fixed on mine
like a challenge   or a promise   or a question...
yes, questions many and true --
i find in this deepest cave
          burning opal.