Tag Archives: memory

Round house

I used to love
to kick things
as hard as I could
like people
on the side of their heads
if they didn’t move
I remember the feelings
of taking a foot to the face
the pain shock & humility
the deafening pressure—the ringing
to destroy between a helmet and a chest piece
the barriers between us—the rules governing
our moves but not our emotions—
I’m reminded of this at the hip
with every step I take
toward my grave


You were the tallest girl I ever fucked—
that alone stands out to me thinking back
among the sea of deviance like a peak in the waves

You must have been my height
or just slightly shorter—I think we even
did a side by side just to see back to back

I remember those legs
but I can’t remember your face now
other than the way I would catch you staring at me from across the room

There at someones party with your semidwarfed boyfriend
in Sarasota from outta town—Tallahassee maybe,
you guys seemed so close

I don’t know why then our hands found
their way into each others
while he was supposedly passed out right beside us—

There was no stopping it at that point—
we were too young or something—too magnetic—
nothing else in the world had any meaning left—

We had been born to find each other
sought out of height—out of hair—
out of the ringing in our hands down into your soaked booty

I had to taste it—
and soon my cock growing into belonging down in your throat
was no longer enough—

To fuck wildly trying to be quiet
he didnt even move
or make a sound pulling your black wavy hair back
my hand over your mouth in the dark smell of unpeeling
—I remember
loving distinctly how much of you there was—
the same reason we’ll probably be gone
from this world before everyone else—

You told me you’d let me do anything to you
and of course that was a total lie
but it sounded good outside at 4am on the grass beneath the willow—

How were we supposed to know
Rachel’s nana made her the blanket
we desecrated into the dirt with our mad hazy starlit ritual

You told me you loved him but that you needed me—when I came inside you pulled me in as tight as you could—I slept on my own on the couch & saw your myspace three months later still together


It’s the first time
you realize
you’ve been born—
you were becoming—now
you’re being—

It’s the crossfade
of your memory—that one
time—you can’t discern
now—was it just
your imagination—

It’s the one dream
where it’s made to be seen
so clearly—
like an epiphany—
or an emotion—

It’s the fever
that comes over you—seeks
to mend you—takes you
somewhere else—
does it boil—
or does it burn—

You slide down
the neck—you feel for
where the waves start
wobbling—you put your
palms up—index to
the thumb—

It’s the medicine—
do you remember
your initiation—
did you take it
into your hands—what does
to you—

It’s the practice—
the moments of mastery
that reflect the mystery

Does it pluck at you
like a string—does it
drone—does it chime
like a bell—does it echo 
when I do this—

It’s the death—
like falling—
or the death
like flying—

It’s tomorrow
where intention
calluses—it shines in wait—
tomorrow—you will

Angel II

Those full moon nights
rising behind the hills
we’d hike up to Pogonip
just to see it
the whole meadow
to ourselves
and visible

in the moonlight
we’d accelerate
with micrograms
and a glass pipe
dedicated to
just this one thing
your pregnant wife said
she felt like
she was in an egg
after melting it down
into alien candy

It was as if
nothing could touch us
we must have been glowing
they called this place
Heroin Hill
we navigated the tracks
by phosphene
past the headlamp bicycle ghoul
to the garden of eden

We passed right through
someones camp
a shadow
stomping a big staff
or his boots
on the earth
to warn us

Perhaps it was our
maniacal apologies
our incessent laughter
in the redwoods
that assured the man
we were just passing through

Like the river
passing through the place
in the forest
we called our home


I know, we
had work
the next morning,
but something
made us walk
to the beach
that night

A few miles north
up highway one
by the cave

You always pronounced
your Z’s
with a Puerto Rican S

You were always
Re a lie sing

How many little
cubensis we placed
into our hands
our mouths
how much
brown resin
from the trichocereus
we harvested
that would grow again
six where there
was once one

I remember when
you disappeared—
hide the mescaline
in the sand

Was it you
or the fire whispering
sentient knots—
an audible curse
to crack open the clouds

A line drawn
out of sky
staight through
the mist
above us

I was surprised
by how much
you had changed—
you thought you were
my savior!
I should have known

[No more words in this cocoon]

I was surprised
when we showed up
on time for work
the next day

35 ppm

Found a nail
                 to hang it from

I sent the water
                back from where it came

It was circulating
                    pushing in the oxygen

Flashback to when we used
                                     to spraypaint poetry

The roads that went to nowhere
                                         they ran out of money

Pouring rain and lightning
                              the smell of pussy and the shins

Acacia sap they sent back
                           in candles she said

Mountain dew and indole
                                   tiny flowers in Big Sur

They started kissing first
                      it was only natural

Blue bioluminescence in the waves
                   of the ocean in the middle of the night

There’s a light on
               out there on the boat

There’s a light on
                        in here because of me

The sparks of the tow truck
                                  Toyota camry in the air

Floor it in reverse
                    spin around in the field

You could walk under powerlines
                           forever but you shouldn’t

We loved highway 9
                       like it was our beloved

We were only tourists
                                     just like everybody else

We’d wind up in the middle of
              nowhere goin’ how we ever gonna get back

What’s the difference between a poet and a terrorist

Sir, you’re going to have to come with us

look up down the aisle
    headphones off
notebook closed
    thick men in outfits
with intent faces
    all eyes on me

the poems

I scoot past
    The Bitch
and realize
    I’m being removed
from the plane

you shouldn’t say it
    you should just stop
go to sleep
    forget it ever happened

in the weirdshaped chair
    eating a fuji apple
should we let him do that
    why did you leave this behind
every agency in the proximity
    swarmed like vultures
with ear pieces
    making everyone wait
while they searched
    and found nothing

I was flying to New York
    it was after, you know,
you remember, don’t you

We just need to make sure
    this plane makes it safe

I just wish
    they read
the one
    I threw away

A bag full of button pushers

Flor de Caña                            mapacho spliffs
       for breakfast
on the way to Managua

     three days
without CB1 antagonization
outside of Masaya on a small papaya farm

       mutts with dangling     udders
  tied to palm trees          smoke
rising from a volcano                a little puppy
     appears          a tarantula walks by
                  The Great Gatsby

           in the little green honda
    dish out cordobas
treble techno taxi
    smell of burning trash
everywhere           zoombeep the chicken bus

                    you played
       with your astral hoop              taking
                long exposure shots of the light
       patterns                thinking I was in
love              wondering if we were
really                  just                              I

didn’t sleep
     ’til we passed thru Granada
                     the oldest city in the Americas
skeptical as a blown up hospital
                or a crater lake gone dormant  
  for a swim         a silver married Aerostar      
wandering the streets for Toña at 3am

¿Puedo comprar una cerveza?
               …¿Que?                                Toña
              Ohhhhhh…                           gracias
                     Sólo… necesito veinte cordobas

  all gated up wasted bodies littered the street 

Sólo           necesito
veinte       cordobas            
                                                No tengo, no tengo
            (fireworks every thirty minutes all night)

Trout said it wasn’t the cactus
                          I was looking for
      Weefee San Juan Del Sur
                               volcanic earthquakes
       at the bar
                               the power goes out
  every other hour
     a Jesus and Mary parade         assembles
a Jamaican with a    levamisole handshake
                                           mirths gold teeth

           Landcruiser pothole buzzhands ring
                  in the howler monkey’s
       jungle         their howls in the blue morning
heard for misty miles        swaying in the windy
      trees                going for a walk down
    to Playa Mathilda                           two girls
              with red eyes on the beach
        making necklaces

                                   You got any weed?

Quantum lipstick

Here it comes
                                                I feel it

look at all the
                                                smiling faces

don’t look back
                                                don’t look—anyway
you did—

what do you see what
                                                 do you see

is it
                      really                is it

how long’s it been how
                                         long has it been given
                                         ten thousand fold

where my tongue
                                         once roamed
a plague

where my tongue
                                         once touched

The orange road

Kris had an entire fridge
full that he brought back
    from his school the week before

                                     he lived on the 15th floor
                                              of a building a block
                                             from the tenderloin

we ate some paper projected
milkdrop on the wall what
    was already everywhere anyway

                  Ravi with Zakkir’s liquid drum hands
           and god knows what else we laughed in
      hysterics like kids stoned for the first time

until 2AM came the bars shut down
people began to roam the cold bleak
    San Francisco streets we could see them

      from up there the city lights cackledazzling
           two huge bags next to the grapes
                   just sitting there it seemed right . .

    what else are we going to do with it all
shrug handheld sweet snapcrunchy grenades
thrown dead on the drunks our targets howled

wobbling ducking for cover hollering like ants
   the sheer alarm of our laughter like hyenas in
the sky soon the road was one inch thick with

smashed carrots          redbeanied crackheads twitched by and hopped into the nearest cab
         Ya’ll wanna smoke some ice cream