Saturday, 31 August 2019

31

i wanna wear my life out
like any true fighter who
took the talent god
gave them

and made the most
without regard for pain
of it

giving the world the
very last of all
i got


change of heart

i was frightened by an accusation in a nightmare, it nearly broke my heart, i woke up pained and unwilling to return to bed, and called my father three time zones ahead. we shared our memories of late nights listening to the loons, the wonder of the call, one moment mournful and stops you in your tracks, then takes flight nearly in laughing. i guess we can have a change of heart, too. 

response to mikulova

i remember how you shared with me last year (a hopeful time for me), our mutual friend turned me on to your work. we were closer than friends really. up late one night i read all your words and got to know you a little, then drove with my guy down to alameda to see her and her daughter and meet you. the party was a little too much for maybe both of us. you were tired from traveling and camped out in a big chair, anyways, and i came and sat down by all of you and we exchanged smiles and pleasantries between us. the music and laughter and smoke. of course your words had a much greater impact and i thank you for them... i think this is how it can be with us writers. 

sapphire eye

a sapphire eye for solace
when you are inconsolable
coming to america never
been here before

a period to end all the sentences
running and running 
away

a pitch that turns colors
been seen and not heard
displaying a royal flush
of feathered tails

have another vodka
a sapphire eye sees you 
are home

sensitive skull

i once envied you
who

 could give
a fuck or less

see what has become
of you

your thick skull
has isolated you

you get all your groceries
delivered

you think no one
gives a damn

and you're
right

journal august

the sky was a peach at sunset and a fire at dawn and we ate lemon ice and prayed that the city's electrical grid would hold up. the number of homeless had risen and not all could not be housed, and caring citizens were combining forces and giving away tents on the weekend. others were cold complaining to cops and assemblymen: get these sorry-ass derelicts off of my street!

Wednesday, 28 August 2019

28 August

i got going early. two hot mugs of coffee with hazelnut. shredded wheat. a few lines of Hemingway. to have or have not. rather full of booze and game fish and racist. i got outta there quick. back to my own stuff. maybe less charged or controversial. edits for an hour and up and hit the interstate in my '04 GTI. the sun was burning hot.

pace of life

the pace of life runs along with or without you. setbacks make it harder to keep up. sometimes you need to stop and talk to someone. share your feelings. then pick yourself up and carry on.

i delight

a single cricket found his way into my home and hides on the vine. i delight in his courage to make music in this strange and dangerous land 

Tuesday, 27 August 2019

telling

telling was the night upon the day long and hot and humid until the end

the night and
     like a shot it shut
                         you down

i took you to the spot
where all the revelry
was muted

distant

the interplay of
telling you how i
truly felt without
a word

the science

the science was a whisper
held against it
up against the
wall the
kiss

Wednesday, 21 August 2019

the sameness

Any need to explain yourself by your heritage was obviated by the sameness. Whether you liked it or not you would be classified by your skin color, initially. Even the ones classifying you would insist they were not. Sadly, some might not even know they were, such was the state of lack of self-awareness.

Tuesday, 20 August 2019

Monday, 12 August 2019

ATE245

ATE244

ATE243

ATE242

ATE241

ATE240

ATE239

ATE238

ATE237

ATE236

Tuesday, 6 August 2019

excerpt from my yet-to-be-published novella

Katya 2019
There may be hope for me, I thought, rolling the smoke between my fingers. How different everything felt. The box, the stem, the lighter, the cig. I could sense the tobacco leaf inside the paper. Crunchy, resilient, it bounced back when you pressed it. I set fire to it and watched it burn and glow. I felt the smoke hit the lungs and exhaled at the top of my breath, I can breathe. Maybe I will last, after all, I thought, relaxing and getting used to myself again, taking drags. Aden looked worried, huh, I suppose they all did. I wish I could tell him...I still see things that turn me on. The barber shop cylinders have gone dark, the neon lights are lit, the end of the night far away, the dance floor naked and ugly without a dance. I paid the check and smiled. - Katya, Trouble '99