for missing sisters and brothers of the rain

of bus stop dime bags and 50 cents for street car fare




i see your faces every once in a while

in the rosemary by the patio in my mind in 1996 or 2010 or 

in the passing bus glass windows of today an almost stillness

hovers above the place you last left your rosary in the alley

where i still keep pieces of myself invisible to passing time

waiting for the next chant of bloody mesas &

hopefully javalina knows what to do with Venus when we sleep.




How one could possibly consolidate an entire life’s history into a single handshake—

the secret thread connecting ligaments of air to ring of bone song of revolutions

song of planetary dissolution song of skeleton dancefloors the mind bone of circular

logic the mind bone of big bang blot beckon witness the mind song of desolation 

die alone born alone before before song of coyote moon cherry pit glass bottom rootstalk

hummingbird thrashing stillness in your face song of monarch anarchy between eucalyptus lit sun seepage song of concrete pillows what was lost in milkcrate circles in dreams in area codes too dense to be de-cyphered the numbers & letters connecting us secret thread of mercy silence through the night pray past your days only when you have to.  




for every one of us who speaks to the ants in our hats only when we think nobody is watching—

we have sun rises tropical rainstorms raspberry donuts the blues the dusted doors of empty pay phones calling every woman i meet past 11th Ave the woman of my dreams as i wake myself lipping a breath of gratitude limping half-light stagger past peripherals battling voices arguing with the suicidal pimp in the next room through the wall my fists kiss sheet rock in my mind every time the curtains feel like i need to be opened more the world is against me again it is only Tuesday on the third planet from the sun where we were created from The Word where it isn’t such a bad place to be if you don’t mind being sized up by 1,000 eyes at a time a few cameras in the cross walk in the air dropping bombs on beaches in the water and food not such a bad place to be all the time (for now).




Nagasaki will remind you if nothing else will—

do not let the fellow traveler among you pass without a smile.

a gift. a nod. something.





every day i wake to new reasons the world is against me for instance have you

ever thought much about leaves falling liquid soap salmon swimming upstream

equal and opposite reactions who’s got the guns who makes the guns gasoline 

prices the pump is calling the shots now there will be blood in the exhausted masses

reasonings i am but only a simple receiver a warner in this telling you revealing what i’ve 

been told by invisible wings the blink of Saharan scarabs the rollie pollie’s first 

stroll down memory lane government warnings flash backs season’s change i find myself

on the other end of a tight rope surrounded by oceans & darknesses holding a candle 

burning from both sides this is just to say from now on please light a candle at every

mention of heaven at every mention of heaven at every mention of heaven 

for every here over there & every there over here for every answer to the question 

nowhere to be found.