Inmigrante

I have my own theme music. Were it to play aloud, I’d be sued, most likely, by Led Zeppelin. Ah-ah-ah-AH… is how it begins and in my head, mi guitarra es un hacha real cutting through bullshit and misspent walls meant to keep me out but in actuality, only trapping the hatred within. I have…

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…

T’ree A.M.

It t’ree a.m. High I&I rakkle and roll, swing an’ sway, irie feelins t’ru de day. Night-a call, me sess a-blow, rakkle me brain now don’ cha know. It t’ree a.m., me reggae flow, bounce ‘pon de train an’ mek we go. T’ru dem tunnel, out de side, down we block, so me can hide….

Him a Shotta

Him a shotta livin life on him edge. Girl by de side, she wait for him light fe break. “Why fe you a romeo?” she say, but him naw respond ‘cau him a shotta, and him too hard fe speak. But she naw sceered a him. His frown mek her wet down dere in her…

Leave

I hate to see you go, girl, but damn I love to watch you leave taking with you the better bits of me and thus I sat, remote in hand and a marathon of meaningless mediocrity minding me from across the first-floor prison. It was empty in bed without you, baby, and I couldn’t stand…

temporary sanity

wishes of a new day arise like laughter in first-grade classrooms or a balloon in a cloudless sky bright in the morning sun and out of sight by nightfall 8/18/88

By They Pass

By they pass, I see them not I stand, alone, unwelcomed their world, their cliques are foreign soil Liberated by exclusion Grainy flashes; colours pass seen askance, like shadows Snap them while they study me Though shooting, I’m not looking They fear lone wolves though I am not I’m alpha lion, outcast I watch the…

Lagos Secretos

It floats on misty lakes that trees possess like jealous lovers, raining dying leaves like spent, dripping, leftover love. Blue waves lap at shores where she hides, in the deep, eyes to the treetops. Blinding leaves of sunlight breathe a lover’s kiss, cool raw, and fraught with summer’s wisdom. It laps at her toes, freshly…

we tear at trees

we tear at trees with bleak disdain angered by their windswept dance flash their wanton fall display invite their own destruction we self-righteous rapists, we tear them down to make them ours raise our structures to supplant with submissive, suburban tableau of rounded shrubs and well-kept grass nary a hair falls out of place vistas…