You intrigue me your wit the way you turn a phrase the way you see things your passion for things for life so it makes me wonder what it would be like to be kissed by you taken in your arms and deeply and thoroughly kissed… I wonder what it would be like to be…

It’s another day I can happily say It’s another day And I feel okay There’s nothing you can do To change my point of view I’m feeling like I fit into a plan I know I’ve been a desperate man It seems like the sun is shining only for me I know I can move…

Cenovia how I wondered if I would see you again Cenovia how I wondered if I could ever explain I lost your contact when I failed to call back But when I saw you again nothing had changed oh no You were the same so sweet Cenovia you are who I’ve been waiting for Cenovia…

I met Nathan when I went to read a story at the Hugo House. He read too. He has reddish hair– like copper flaking away its green. His teeth are wide. One is melded into another. I feel so much sadness for him. He will come meet my family tomorrow night. We’ll converge, at their…

for Banksy stop the dolphin on the sidewalk blue five feet coin slot saddle and red fishnet the leopard lost his coat tail swinging red satin lining five thousand gold buttons bone not included the chameleon wears Louis Vuitton and Krylon splashes the bonobo clutches the remote watching the discovery channel monkeys’ procreating pushing buttons—rewind…

Lolo whistled ivory teeth of coconut meat meant he was shoveling or having coffee with Acidophilus Milk or a smoke with Dan the ‘Nam vet who sold him cartons Lolo wore flip flops in the garden carved canyons in his soles saw clearly beyond cataracts made Filipino expletives ukininam at the mahjong table shuffling made…

I roll Dekalb. I watch color walls. I illegal scrawl. I feel Fall. I keel haul to port of call. I kill oak gall. Jackal dolls bawl in mess hall. Ah ! ritual alcohol non-habitual. I waterfall default to thrall crawl no wherewithal. I drawl to downfall. I anchor ancestral temple I follow falsetto to…

“Money is a kind of poetry.” ~Wallace Stevens A kind of currency. Lingua franca. Electric voltage to jumpstart a body or fry it to a crisp. Everything is bark. Words. Mots. Palabras. Pesetas. Copper. Argent. What a verbal illustration. Tip dessin vert. Mint species. Poetry is green olive and foliage. It will buy you a…

if you sit still enough the rwandan military maracas and djembes in hand will shake you out the conga tree entrain your thumping beat an executive order with six thousand rebel forces ravishing women strategic sheets of boom and clang embody their arms inhabiting a melody in the hollow emerging from cobalt that will take…

Su n da y night the bloo d y Sa murai and b ee t sou p .