Poem 24. America, 2022

Bodies under siege
controlling men weilding pens
raping our freedoms
kidnapping our liberties
taking hostage our bodies.

Poem 22. Tenderness

Of all the wishes 
we had as children, all the
hopes and silent prayers
we offered up, tenderness
from Mom and Dad was highest.

Poem 20. Echo Husband

We lost you last year.  You went to bed out there in South Dakota, and never woke up. Fifty five years old and gone.

I mean, I know you weren’t mine anyway,  hadn’t been for a couple of decades, but your first is always a little yours regardless. I know you agree. We talked about this many times.

I still drive the pali, not as much as I used to, but I still do, and I think about all the talks we had about you coming here to retire, spending your time at Molokini. I hear you laughing through the car, then resigning yourself, and reminding me you had three more years to work. And I always said no. You just want to work for three more years. And you said yeah… then you were gone.

Now, all that’s left is the echo of our conversations about how badly you wanted to be here, and me looking out over the ocean to Molokini, hoping you are there.

Poem 19. Los Angeles, California

LA I love you. All the extra words are junk. I just fucking love your gritty, pungent, greasy streets in the morning dew. I love Sunset Blvd… the lights, the stand still traffic, the hookers. I love your hard lines, and that everytime I am with you,  famous people are there, too. I love Little Tokyo, getting fresh mochi and sitting by the fountain eating it. I love Olvera Street, her tacos and Tres Generationas shots… bright paper mache flowers! LA I love that we were only about 20 minutes to you on the five without traffic, and that no one ever cared that we played in the glass elevators at the Bonaventure Hotel all night when we were wild teenagers. I love you, LA. Your garment district, my home away from home for many formative years, your quiet North Hollywood neighborhoods, your welcoming Weat Hollywood, with lots of kissable girls and boys, good places to eat, and shops with rainbows in every window. LA I love you

I love Guitar Center, The Getty, The Greek, The Pantages, Mark Taper… Hollywood Bowl…  I love that you always treated me like I was somebody… even when you knew I wasn’t. 

I love you, LA.

Poem 18. Hoshi Joy

Tiny kitty meow
orange found us kitty meow
kept us and loved us
brought life back into our hearts
and saved us from the lonelies.

Best orange kitty
in the history of all
orange kitties who
ever were soft and orange
saved us from our covid sad

Joy kitty orange
tiny meow petted darling
kitty of snuggles
hippety hop kitty meow
wonky hop orange love beans.


Poem 17. Monster

It’s been a very long day
for a very long time
Scratching at the door to get out
is always a possibility.
Don’t cook bacon.
Don’t become bacon.
Don’t cut yourself.
Always wear pants.
Keep your tamber light.
Do not. Do not tease.
She has no mercy.
It’s been a very long day.
Stay on your two feet.
Wear pajamas.
Do not look her in the eyes.
Scratching at your flesh
is a definite.
Do not beg. Do not beg. Do not beg.
If you want to keep her sleeping
Do not beg.
She smells your need.
She will get to you
if you want her to.
You do not want her to.
Even if you think you do, you don’t.
She doesn’t want to get to you
but if you want her to
She absolutely will not stop.
It’s been a very long day
for a very long time.

I feel her stirring.

The sun is millennia from setting.


Poem 16. Dancing Past the Ecliptic

Being breathless now
no responsibilities
I rarely feel her.
A Raggedy Anne doll jumped
into view recently in

a gift shop in the
SFO airport,  let me
know she was close by.
She felt light and lovingly
curious. She felt whole. Free.

Tell me, Mom, where do
you go now with no constraints,
nothing holding you?
Is it everything you’d hoped?
What are you doing out there…?

Poem 15. Mine (a lust prompt poem)

…beltingly bleed you spilling out for Me burning that soft flesh near your wanting to please Me over your quivering let it go give it to Me offer it up from your fours wet shower floors fours ins and outs for only Me to watch you and the theys of your blushings and resistings for the ties and the under waters and the absolute trust in Me hanging you in closets dropping you in bathtubs strapping you to arm hairs stuffing you with coats of coats of coats of your own stuffing you with all My colors overflowing on the beating kitchen floor of your pleasurable begging you have always been Mine. Mine. Mine…

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