Category Archives: poems

Avenida de Mundo (what a world!) has a pulse, amigo this asphalt is alive— skaters are fearless in the no helmet zone long boards, Penny’s carrying their surfboards slingshot behind racing bicycles, rusty Beetles and the shaggy beach horses   … Continue reading →

why Saint City? a ghost of a saint asks me— because of yoga namaste   because I meet a woman in tight Russian track pants in hot yoga in Saint City and she is hot she takes me to an … Continue reading →

this Manhattan is strong and sweet— I’m not blind but I don’t have to see the New York skyline to taste the big apple promise take a bite, tempting vermouth as Prince shreds Purple Rain frozen cherry and lemon rind … Continue reading →

los pelicanos glide and soar like pterodactyls without the screeching— twin sentinels roosting on our roof and mi amor says she loves them like guardians protecting our hut from banditos from other turistas, from other chaise loungers   los pelicanos … Continue reading →

old mexican divers on the dock with gray hairs— viejo rico with their young diving lovers on the clock, the sexy stares of— nuevo rico   scuba suited pro she’s from the city, pale where’d she learn to dive? did he … Continue reading →

that first time in Provence bled through to stain my heart with you— and wine and crusty loaf torn into delicious chunks carving up the Brie with a jack knife on that rock in the southern sun so sublime— sky … Continue reading →

fifties scene so hip a bebop beat city trip is beat bop whack? look out Jack you’re a hep not a schlep you lucky duck quack, quack, quack is beat bop deluxe   twenty-first century beat city tripsters snap, snap, … Continue reading →

I rake this sand because I think that that’s zen it seems zen-like to rake sand in my new zen garden, right? then Jack runs through it barking, wanting to play, making a mess with paw prints and holes freshly … Continue reading →

tough guy Lars Lars full of muscles, whole— bulging at his seams with snarls, sneers and plastic squeakers proud of his hairy back snarling at the puppies   plush puppies love his smell, are crazy for squeakers— teeth tear, claws tear … Continue reading →

the king of the Caribbean is thirsty at the funky Café Del Mar sipping on rum, sipping on a silver crescent sliver of moon sipping on a thousand salty stars pouring from the Big Dipper pouring from the coconuts as cool jazz … Continue reading →