Tag Archives: poem

Amore

Time is not a liar. The motion’s forward. Period. Capitalized letter. Hello. Goodbye. See you soon, when the sky changes color and familiar shadows sashay onto the face of the moon. Aloha. Didn’t you feel my body assuming that sacred space. Me, empty, Namaste. Time is not a liar. The dignified and exiled stare inside mystified. The galaxy, flag fabric. Lick wind. Ciao. Time is not a liar. Period. Capitalized letter. Blades of grass against your palm. Cool wind, closed eyelids. Amore.


Irish Code of Silence

Of course the bottle is empty

And the job is steady

You never break promises

Because

You never make promises

It feels like violence, this silence


To Aurora, from the Protector

Let me protect you from the bastards

I think I’m serious

I’m never shy about disgracing myself

Someone has to vomit on the hip messiah

While mumbling Aurora

Then the lines

Aurora’s a half awaken angel

Drunk on the salty dust of the morning

Those lines, again and again

From my masterpiece unwritten

Because I get distracted by the emanation

Arising from the antiseptic disinfectant towelettes

My more patient, graceful custodial self

Utilized to sparkle the floors

Of my aggressive monkey mind

After the vomit

Burst from my lips

Like erupting lava

…………….

So don’t waste your time in these bars

That the bored liberals romanticize

Because the neighborhood’s not gentrified

And they can annihilate their inhibition

In the bathroom stall

Then inform some unwashed Internet contemporary

That Time is the new God

And love died inside their broken

Dreams of Christmas

…………………..

Bar, bars

The barriers trapping the prisoner

A word

An object preventing freedom

Also the place where we’re supposed to be drunk

Happy believers in the flag

That the stone statue died for

That you should want to fuck on

Because we’re the best dressed meat

Bobbing our heads to the bass line

No, damn it no

Don’t think there’s uniqueness

Some old time touch and feel experience

Tongues of deliverance

I’m just sitting in the bar waiting to protect someone

In the bar, behind our bars


Endy Chavez in the World Series

I was feeling low

In front of the machine

That’s smarter than me

Watching an old baseball game

In an attempt to subvert

A detailed personal thesis

On all the reasons to panic

Including fears of inexplicably

Eating pen caps, AA batteries

And more generalized madness

Already covered by certain episodes

Of The Twilight Zone

Meanwhile, the game is rolling

And Endy Chavez stepped to the plate

Seeing Endy Chavez in the World Series made me think a lot of things

He made that stupefying catch that time

Defying Sir Isaac Newton and keeping the glove open

To deny that should have been Scott Rolen home run

But that was not the World Series

And the Mets lost, and that kind of mattered

I also thought

Endy Chavez is fun

Graceful, fast, full of effort

He’s a hitter like I’m a person

Good for a line drive once in awhile

Mostly trying to leg them out

The rollers and choppers and quails

That can be stretched for doubles

It reminded me of us

The way we’re fighting to fight

Denying our luck by entertaining the pressure

The pressure I picture as the spike pit from that arcade game

We played in the pizzeria back in ‘95

With our garlic fingertips

Kaleidoscopic child minds cycling candy pixels and floating gold rings

You get older and your head gets filled with other things

The desire for a soul quelled by the rationalization

That nobody has a face in the comments section

That everybody has a personal identification number

And explaining what makes us special

Would make them suspicious

We have appointments to uphold

And a diligent sadness to impart

Through all the love we reserve

And all the words of love unsaid

Hey Endy, do you ever feel the wall with your fingertips

After nabbing one at the warning track?

Ever feel the padding meant to preserve your ribcage?

The warmth from the summer sun absorbed on the wall

Like the tinfoil trapping the heat from the hot dog unwrapped

In the upper-deck

A wall clarifies

This is where the game exists

This is where the game is observed

Outfielders collaborate with the barrier

Their foot spikes leveraging a leap

Against the hot padding

Their bodies rising

Up

Arms extending into the audience

For a moment of helpless waiting

Humans have always made walls into art

Endy and his brethren

Working with the object

Like the kids in the skate park

It’s only supposed to be a railing

It’s only supposed to be a ramp

It’s only supposed to be a wall

And Endy, ever stop and say

I am Endy Chavez, I am a part of it all?

But oneness is elusive

And everyone’s obsessed with protection

I’m supposed to be me, like a shield

I’m supposed to be me

But who appreciates Endy Chavez taking a low and outside fastball

Flipping his wrist to produce fortuitous backspin and whistle a line drive straight above the cap of the third baseman that was ready but unable to counteract serendipitous placement with his own precise muscle memory

While Endy cruises into second base like an assured surgeon

Parking her Lamborghini in the reserved space

Before saving someone’s life in the morning

The mind perceiving the double

Belongs to me

Yet I can’t answer

What that means

Except that maybe an individual

Can be better known

By the specificity

Of what they believe to be

Beauty

So, that’s what I thought when I saw Endy Chavez in the World Series

Texas lost the game

They lost and they could have won

With a little more fortuitous backspin

But hey, they could have not been there to begin with

The Texas Rangers could have been sucked into a state of

Nonexistence due to a reversal of time linearity

Caused by an unexpected miscommunication

Between the offices of the fifth and sixth dimension

About where the meeting was supposed to take place

On May 16th, 2011 when the Rangers Professional baseball club received a complete game from Colby Lewis, who honed his craft in Hiroshima

To bump their record to 22-19

Endy Chavez had three hits, including a double

And compared to a serious mishap

Cosmic or otherwise

Losing the World Series doesn’t really mean anything

Like, isn’t crowning a Champion just an arbitrary demarcation

Separating one season from the next

Partially camouflaging the fact that sport is absurd

And the true pleasure is in a moment of forgetfulness

Instead of everything we want anything to be about?

Control, domination, the victor and vanquished

The disgraced and satisfied

The separation we knife into existence

So I should relate to a shark

With a weeping, bleeding seal between its teeth

Joe DiMaggio played for the San Francisco Seals

Nobody ate him and he had a glorious career

Well good for the Champions, anyway

Good for them and their lucky tongues tasting the champagne

There’s supposed to be a winner and loser

There’s supposed to be Endy Chavez

He’s supposed to do everything Endy Chavez does

And we’re supposed to breathing

We’re supposed to be feeling, too

We’re supposed to be in love, aren’t we?

We’re supposed to appreciate this moment


Native Celebration

(previously ‘This Way’)

………………………………

I feared a revolution

For I knew I would be a commander

Intuitively understood I would lead

A legion boot deep in blood

Down a hollowed street

The eateries turned holes

In the walls of a world that

Used to be

…………………………..

It started when they broke the lock

Invaded my bed kicked me in the head

Loaned me a chain then said

Your game, your time

Stand in line

…………………………..

Life was different but the seconds progressed

Into the present circumstance

My mustache gray

My holsters brown

My solutions black

Mastered with experience

………………………

Memories, though

Walking my dog

Down

A hill and feeling

Sin dry

Through the God in her eyes

And the setting sun above the tree line

And the paradise on city property

And the blue blanket of empty

Safety’s the highest priority

A God that gives permission

Was the God I believed in

………………………..

I feared it was always going to be this way

I had to stand above you

And choke the life out of you

To save a bullet

Your skin was forgiving

………………………

Later in the evening

During the Native celebration

That old song’s playing

And I can taste the vodka on my tongue

A tongue never forgets

A tongue never lies

I used my tongue

To commune with you

All those nights

Then, when

It was an explosion of light and noise

It was a fear of women

It was the dance-floor in Miami

Where I forgot my name

It was the promised change

It was peace at the apex

Of a swinging pendulum

Waving hello, goodbye

Hello, goodbye

………………………..

It was always going to be this way

……………………….

So tell me the dark matter

Holding the universe together

Can take a joke

Because I feared

A revolution

Coming to know

The self


A New Truth

(previously Melanie)

Midnight was written

Across the orange street

Under the paper moon

And the white screen

Owned your eyes

The screen was all

A spiral we demand

Because we get what we want

And you want the news about you

It says you need to hate me now

And don’t you?

But hey, I’m standing here with my

Mouth in my hand and I’m reaching

Reaching for you

The one with them

But I’m the one aware

They only see a shard of you

A convincing image

Like

That shattered champagne glass

On the cement

I really liked you, Melanie

And sometimes I hate me

Like you hate you

We’re trapped in the truth

Me, you

Caught in the light-tower together

You pull on my waist

While I guide my beam

Over the black waves

Searching for that second shipwreck

That the insurance man prophesized

Fact was the name of the first ship

Fact, with sea spiders crawling

Over her cutlery

In the dining room

A million leagues deep

Found and disavowed

So, there goes my light

Cast onto the ocean of indifference

In the name of a new truth

But that’s the lighthouse

And this is the street

Where I finally speak

To say your condescension

Is like condensation

Naturally occurring

Coming and fading

Water between the webs of my fingers

Then steam filtering through that bullshit bar

A cute magic trick

Performed to elicit my embarrassment

And accumulate their merit

They like it when city kids

Whore themselves before the neon altar

And confirm their suspicion

So they feel free

To educate me about my identity

Yet you’re above it, Melanie

Above every irony

Above every novelty

You are inconvenient

Like this conversation

Under the paper moon

On the orange street

Outside the bullshit bar

Look away, will you?

My love look away from that screen


Melanie

Midnight

On the orange street

Under the paper moon

The white screen

Owned your eyes

They told you the news

The news about you

Now you have to hate me

Don’t you?

But allow me a few lines

_Listen_

All you do is try to impress them

But it’s just a shard of you

A convincing image

Like

That shattered champagne glass

On the cement

I really liked you, Melanie

But until now

I never had the words to tell you

Time and only time

Reveals every lie

And your condescension

Is like condensation

Naturally occurring

Coming and fading

Water between the webs of my fingers

Then steam filtering through this bullshit bar

A cute magic trick

Performed to elicit my embarrassment

And accumulate their merit

They like it when city kids

Whore themselves before the neon altar

And confirm their suspicion

So they feel free

To educate me about my identity

Yet you’re above it, Melanie

Above the cardboard sunglasses

And clothes with commands

But when I play ignorant

You encourage me with promises

Then grind your teeth when I have an opinion

It’s all so fucking inconvenient

Like this conversation

Under the paper moon

On the orange street

Outside the bullshit bar

Look away, will you?

My love look away from that screen


%d bloggers like this: