Trattoria Italiana

table for one away from the kitchen back to the world not under the plants skylight’s too bright too much limoncello the fat lady farted plus twenty percent 07/87 – 0 5/17

ode to a decade of art (or, i wish i could push rewind)

ten years ago i took up the knife held it to my eye and with a flick felt it cut; just a trickle and a speck, though and the city barely felt it but it was reddish-blue, a royal hue (though lacking you) and i cut again, and often. four-score and seven years ago minus…

Against the wind

From my “Pain” photo-poetry series: Against the wind and to the sky with steady gait past prisons fly. accept the world against her feet and move, uphill. decry defeat. that perfect spot the All have made in quiet, tears surrender shade. when comes the sun again, she’ll try to climb up to sweet destiny. but…

I Danced, Once, with Her

I danced, once, with her Weather Report was playing “Between the Thighs” and in my mind, I was there She danced back at me, her hips hopping to my spoken word, her being to my bop, ebb to my flow She washed along my shore her big hair lapping me like red waves, unkempt on…


roaches run rampant crispy, crunchy,  critters crawl ugly underfoot

Monday, 27 July 1987

Some old schtuff. Sonrisa Dominicana Spanish laughter lifts in the air punches holes in my somber armor. It asks, tenderly “What is wrong?” inwardly cries at a null response and turns to seek new friendships. I cry in secret at the loss of you. Sunbird flight of arrows westward to the horizon wings shimmering in…

Why We Don’t Treat Them?

City night is calling we. Crying in her sleep, despair rising over rooftops, we shoot to kill him dead and then another mother weep why we don’t treat life like the way we should? Empty arms embracing, she clutch an empty heart revenge tell her no more misery found her baby gun and empty clip…


She was a sheep in wolf’s clothing baring store-bought fangs in struggles to kill his indiscretions and rage against his mal intent Tilter against windmills, she toiler in the lonely moistness of the southern sun She would roar, sound and fury yet with a hurricane’s eye the calm amidst the storm – torrential tears in…

dyslexic winter

midlight moonnight summer junefly firebug flashes yellow rain warm ochre on my brain black Russians conquering coldness nuclear families surviving winter burning leaves fighting cinders 11 May 1984

cat fancies

sandpaper kisses with a tuna aftertaste eyes reveal no secrets yawns boredom at you flows gracefully to the floor and chooses outside