Untitled

 

 

Afternoon green sofa
in tumbled sunlight:
just for this minute,
we are a tableau of happiness;
good time-binders, making history
with words and music,
but a little self-conscious,
wishing to keep it to ourselves,
play it back, re-string and polish it
so it stays
in this room of green sofa,
mantel with no clock,
cold fireplace because
it is still summer.

________________________

                       

For The New Kid

 

 

I hope you will always be warm,
and jumping-jack happy.
I can’t wait to show you those days
when the mountains repeat themselves
slowly
as blue after blue after blue.

                       

 

_______________________

 

The Two Times I Loved You the Most In A Car *


It was your idea
to park and watch the elephants
swaying among the trees
like royalty
at that make-believe safari
near Laguna.
I didn't know anything that big
could be so quiet.

And once, you stopped
on a dark desert road,
to show me the stars
climbing over each other
riotously
like insects;
like an orchestra
thrashing its way
through time itself.
I never saw light that way
again.

 

 

________________________

 

 

I Allow Myself *

 

I allow myself
the luxury of breakfast
(I am no nun, for Christ's sake).
Charmed as I am
by the sputter of bacon,
and the eye-opening properties
of eggs,
it's the coffee
that's really sacramental.
In the old days,
I spread fires and floods and pestilence
on my toast.

Nowadays, I'm more selective,
I only read my horoscope
by the quiet glow of the marmalade.

 

 

                       

_________________________________

 

 

Untitled 

 

 

This sunset is being brought to you

by smog,

which has basted the air

to a breathtaking orange

shot through

with robins-egg blue.

 

 

________________________________

                                                                                                           

 

Downtown*

Downtown is all fogged in
tonight,
and quiet as snow.
In the scattered light
above the freeway,
the skyline floats
like a Hollywood love song.

 

 

_______________________________

 

 

 

The El Nino Variations

Maybe because it’s not raining today
(El Nino is drunk or asleep),
I’m more vulnerable than usual,
riding the Number Eight Bus
down Ocean Park Boulevard,
thinking about my debt
to American poets,
hearing Ginsberg’s voice
testing my cadences.
We pass by the yellow house,
and the shadows come out
like debutantes
into this bushy-tailed morning.

 

 

______________________________                 

 

  

 
Grade School

 

 

The expectation was

that I could recognize

a sycamore tree's

splotchy bark

in my black and white world,

but it was not so.

I only knew the words

“tree” and “house”

and I hoped they

would teach me

the rest.

 

 

____________________________

 

 

 

Remember

 

Remember that time

I was washing the dishes

and you were in the next room

and you ran into the kitchen

when a bubble of detergent

landed on you

and you thought

I sent it on purpose

like a blown kiss,

to tell you I loved you?

 

 

___________________________

 

 

 

Loving you*

 

Loving you

 feels religious,
 like the first time
 I ate sushi. 

 

           

 ___________________________

 

 

For The New Kid

 

 

I hope you will always be warm,
and jumping-jack happy.
I can’t wait to show you those days
when the mountains repeat themselves
slowly
as blue after blue after blue.

 

 

 

 

_____________________________________________

 

3 - Publishing History 

 

The Two Times I Loved You the Most In A Car *

I Allow Myself *

Downtown*

Loving you*

 

*appeared in Poetry Magazine, 3/10

**appeared in Zerx Chapbook #61, 1/08