Poetry

When the air is thin with frost I blow rings of ice smoke as I did when I was young and imagined myself grown and never answering to anyone. From smoke rings to pots that became helmets and tanks, I play-acted a world where color held no name and eyes were tears holding light. Without…

So much for the solid- gold musical taste of the age,                               upbeat, down and out, love- sick groans bawling from the suitcase-sized boom box riding the shoulder of a cholo in shades, webbed hairnet, flannel shirt buttoned to the neck in midsummer, pimp- strut rocking by on tip- toe past pairs of squat, unisex…

We meet     as always on the corner of dusk & dark & against that soubrettish tablet we step off in search of the invisible night that lurks inside of darkness like a well-kept secret or a lie. Wherever we are becomes a carnival, a fair of the heart with sidling glances at lust. We knock…

I got to know what was soft and where the hard parts were in that upholstered bedroom. Every headlight was a worry. I kept my clothes on as much as I could. It didn’t bother you. Even that time getting caught didn’t. You liked it. You said you loved me, but it was what I…

When you wash them do it gently with a mild soap and lightly swish. Silken, seamed, off-black, mist, dotted, patterned in some way, support, light support, sheer, nude, coal, reinforced toe, taupe, suntan, ivory, smoke, they’re in there now all crossed over through the small accumulation of bubbles which gather at the edges of your…

Do it instinctively, like washing your hands or fumbling for your glasses on the night table in the morning, even though, for a small ritual, it is complicated, a minefield of subtleties, an act of aspiration, self-hatred, theatrics. Stand before the full-length mirror on your closet door. You are dressed already, though your hair is…

My bathroom mirror is a window with a sash I could throw open if it were not painted shut. Above it hangs a transparent pane high enough to frame the sky. Usually I forget this, as in the evening while putting on my makeup I am surprised by a streak of orange or zigzag of…

The captain said over the loudspeaker, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Los Angeles. There is no hope.” Each step a search for balance with my friend, here for the first time, beside me in his loose pants and splayfooted saunter, gliding over the sidewalk slabs uprooted by trees or earthquakes on which I’ve stumbled all…