evening autumn jog 11.23.17

sunsetpalm_crimson

the tug felt beneath the shoulder blades
rivulets past the eyes
that sting and told me of the last round of shots
i had the night before
as i clutch the grey fabric at my knees
sunset shows you how the skies can bleed
to give birth to nights where promise, pain and paradise
all share the same dance floor
i jog home
and let the aches go back to singing

Advertisements

grey morning over caguas

multicoloredroofing_greyskies

(note: this goes out to those who are dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane
Maria in Puerto Rico, The Virgin Islands, Dominica and elsewhere. PleaseĀ 
do what you can to help them.)

 

the dry bones of the forests behind my house
stare back at those looking for answers
there’s no more barking
the neighbor’s cow
pierced by the tops of branches
down the road
where the gas station sees a crowd
praying with old gas cans and new tears
as if
there hadn’t been enough water
as if
there hadn’t been enough water
the air brings hints of death
it brings the rising song of flies who aim to feast
this is a time – perhaps one of the few times
when prayers and curses are wed together
and the morning
gray as it is, clear as it is
seems like a winding sheet
that one hopes can be a sail once again

FLASH SALE ON ALL BOOKS!!

Hey there good folks, I know many are taking this day to relax,
let the food and emotions digest from yesterday. But I want those
of you to know that right until next Tuesday, November 29th, there
is a sale on ALL my books of poetry.

That’s right, three titles all for sale. Need another copy for gifts to
friends, family, lovers and others? Step right up and check them
all out right at this link here.

If you’ve already honored me by purchasing one of these books,
I humbly thank you and trust that you will spread the word or
possibly make a purchase for the holiday gifting season!!

Thanks for checking this site out, and have a great weekend!!

the standing eight count

boxingringcorner

the eyes
can’t make the lines sharp
you feel your blood trying to speak certain words
that you can’t at the moment
a frantic conversation that makes your heart
an interpreter who’s about to lose their sense of speech

the blow
comes to your abdomen
frenzied but deliberate; the skin snaps
you gasp and find your legs have become blades of grass
in the midst of a sudden breeze
and it is all you can do to not fall

that was the dark hours of Tuesday
that was the hours of government gone reality show
that was the uppercut
they waited for for eight years
and so we are here
bruised battered and listing

the standing eight count
is the time where one either fights like hell
or sleeps and comes out of the other side
not the same – maybe never
the standing eight count
is blood for the ravenous

the standing eight count
is where the only refuge
is the corner or through your opponent
and it is where one has to say
to tyranny, bigotry, and all of the other demons
“you can’t hit for shit.”

head rush at 2:45 a.m.

b47ef725d3b5161d5a044c526de553a2695922f8_m

asking what composes
the music of my post-midnight madness has been
the past week and a half
is akin to attempting to play a trumpet
underwater

i suppose
it’s all the times that i should’ve listened
to my fears in the past
walking back and gripping my shoulders
like relatives who’ve traveled many miles

the blood is sensitive
singing underneath my skin
like altos in Sunday choirs with no fans
and you wonder where sleep is to be found
as minutes drag the sunrise from its bed

asking what anxiety
comes before one sleeps
is to shine a mirror into the corners of your spirit
untouched
hoping that you can meet the gaze