“Hands of Day” Everything that I can say begins with words, inexact words that attempt idolatry in a world where there is nothing more to know. These are my hands that can say nothing, but they reach out for something … Continue reading “Hands of Day”

“Stranger on the Street” I ask from somewhere unknown— “How long does love last?” The answer comes from someone I do not know— “It is a flash of lightning that shows the soul. It is not memory lingering or future … Continue reading “Stranger on the Street”

“A Game of Pool” Today I will use time wisely and sing my song the way it is. My desire, my will, is the 8 Ball in the corner pocket. I sink it, and there goes my life. Did I … Continue reading “A Game of Pool”

Enjoy King of the Streets, Frisco City Lowrider Show 2022! Cruising Sol Oldies Playlist: “Hello, San Francisco” by Sugar Pie DeSanto “The One Who Really Loves You” by Sugar Pie DeSanto Continue reading King of the Streets Frisco City Lowrider Show 2022!

“Propaganda Poem” Is it possible to write a poem with no feeling, no nothing, no love? A propaganda poem? Here, let me try: —To write about capitalism that got drunk off Coca that turned into blood that killed itself—diseased from … Continue reading “Propaganda Poem”

“San Pancho: 415 Til the Wheels Fall Off” A woman walks down 24th, turns right onto Balmy Alley, and pauses to flex at the Mission Makeover Mural. Why does she smile when she lights her blunt? It is style to … Continue reading “San Pancho: 415 Til the Wheels Fall Off”

“Blowing Smoke” Sometimes I drink—just like an infant. I clutch at the bottle of life. Sometimes I smoke and blow out O’s—just like a gangster. I offer this as a kiss: I promise you I will not let you die. … Continue reading Poem: “Blowing Smoke”

“Here, This Air” Today my hands hold a memory. Cupped inside is nostalgia and pain. I caress them both from one hand to another. This love is alive, as real as the hands that hold it. This pain is deep … Continue reading Poem: “Here, This Air”

For Reddy Ryder, APBT: To be totally focused, you must be hungry. It is an instinct to be sharp, to be Reddy for the hunt. You are in the divine, and there is no malice. It is simply a gift … Continue reading “Prey-Drive, Pray-Drive”

“Departure” I have done my duty. It is the best I can do, even though it is not enough. At this our end, I do not curse to condemn you. I simply shake the dust off of my sandals. It … Continue reading Poem: “Departure”