All Packed

So I’m all packed, ready to go:Ma_and_me_in_shadow

got my soap
my two jumping shoes of love and truth
a death camp stone
a pen of coral
a monkey sunrise
an African melody and a bottle of wine

I’ve got the shadow of the slivered moon
dancing on the limbs of the ceiba tree
and koi fish nibbling and tickling the roots of the lotus flower
that feeds the finicky bees
that don’t care they are robots

hold on un momento,
someone’s at the door
before sunrise a well-known stranger calling at my door,
a tall, dark handsome hour cloaked in inscrutability
greets me with his sly sordid grin

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh, yeah, my goddamn brick wall with ancient murals.”

“What else?” he demands.

“Oh yeah, my pockets lined with a thousand ornate and twisted hours and bleeding perimeters, I almost forgot.”

“Yeah, right.”

I don’t worry
his cloaked presence is more a cover for his impulse to create supernovas,
and he’s the one who gave me one of those jumping shoes in the first place
he always whispers, “don’t linger”
but this morning he introduced me to his beautiful sister:
the silhouette of hours afar filled with moments of mystery

I’m going to need a bigger suitcase

Cafe Sin Leche

I stole the wife of an ugly Zoroastrian.p-heart_big

No, that’s not fair on two accounts:

First, he wasn’t ugly.  I’m sure Aysha’s husband Farzeen is good looking to many women.   In fact, he had an olive complexion and stood tall with dark eyes. Add the fact that he was wealthy, successful, and respected in his field and he probably was quite the catch.

Second, we never “steal” another.  I’m sure that is what he would say about me, but deep down we all know that’s not what happens.  Here’s what happened:

We collided.  Aysha and I collided.

Really that’s it, nothing more.  Take it for what it’s worth.  People collide, something either mysterious happens or nothing happens, really nothing in between.  We fell into each other’s worlds as soon as our eyes met, that teasing energetic eye electricity just below the level of consciousness.

Is it possible to see someone crying when they’re not crying, laughing when they aren’t laughing, loving when they’re not loving, and understanding the world when they are just sipping their damn water or picking things off their pizza?

I thought she was from India, which shows you how much I know.  She was from Turkey.  Her husband was from Iran.  They had moved to San Francisco several years ago. That was just after what I now call Act One of what was then merely a drama blindly unfolding. Read more…

these fires never stop

even after the flesh melts
off the skull
and the soul escapes,
the embers of what was once grandmother
glow warmly at midnight
making cold dogs curious

death stalks the nostrils
like spirits of war,
no way to avoid it here
on the banks of mother ganges
the river of life

death in your face,
on the roads,
staring back at you from
ma ganga and cloistered hovels
in the air
as soft ashen bones
and charred flesh
floating its way towards moksha/liberation
or to another spin on this
merry-go-round

people coughing congregateDSC_6284
and dying dogs with swollen nipples
roam in dark narrow alleys
where the fog settles
like oppression
over this “city of light”
where Kali haunts visitors
she demands blood
from her stony face
and greedy red tongue

and she gets it
because she is mother of all

over-dead cows,
bloated, distended tubes of flesh
float by
joining feces and plastic
in these sacred waters

a holy man’s soul released
while his body,
dry brown flesh
clinging to skinny bones
join orange marigolds
in the dark waters
Sinks quickly and disappears

Like everything else

  • Strange Easter

    I was up too early this morning, awoken by the strange sound and technicolor tinge of a broken neighborhood. Cave_of_Adullam_tb_n021900I decided to walk through my backyard down to the cave. It was cold, like hace frio de puta madre cold! Especially because I forgot to put on my socks, and the grass was crunchy from frost instead of dewy, like a wife.

    I stumbled down to the cave so early in the morning because that’s where I keep my bunnies. Though the bunnies aren’t really mine; they’re contracted. The bunnies lay all the jelly beans and colored eggs I need for this time of year. My plan was to hide jelly beans for the neighborhood kids and homeless and the colored eggs I was going to sell to the nouveau rich on the streets for $13.50 a pop. And I had well over 50 well-incubated pink and yellow eggs, even a couple purple and green ones, and a rare black one (from the black bunny).

    Things didn’t go as planned. When I got to the cave the large boulder covering the entrance was removed. Whoa, tell me what’s-a-happenin’!. I wondered to myself whether I forgot to close the cave the previous night.

    But then I remembered I had been at a naked roller-derby expo and hadn’t rolled in until late. But then how did my bunnies move such a large boulder?

    I went inside the cave and the bunnies were gone! Not even a trace of fur! I immediately went back inside and picked up the phone to dial 1-800-Lost-My-Bunny, but I could barely speak because I then noticed the tapestry hanging on the wall that I bought in India was torn in two.  That was definitely a sign.

    I dropped the receiver, looked out the window. Day had turned to night and I could just barely hear the voice on the line, “Can you please hold…estimated hold time is…4…minutes.”

    I didn’t want to wait that long, so I hung up.

    “Rngggg!!!!”

    I grabbed the phone again. It wasn’t dial-a-lost-bunny, but someone slightly more important: my cousin in Oklahoma. He said there had been sightings of bunnies all over the countryside and the bunnies were surrounded by a faint light and music. People were saying “They have come; They have risen!”

    I was shocked and I had to ask, “Well, tell me, what kind of music?”

    And he said, “Some say disco, but I swear I heard sitars and tamblas.”

    “Hmmmm.”

    I told him about how my Easter plans had gone awry, about the crunchy grass and boulder and the empty cave and the torn tapestry. “You don’t think that possibly…” I began.

    But we didn’t want to think the impossible. We both were quite creeped out. But since I was tired and day had turned to night, all I wanted to do was to crawl back into bed. I knew I wasn’t going to be selling colored eggs today anyway.

    “Well, cuz, I’m gonna catch some sleep. Let me know if you hear anything else about those bunnies.”

    I put on some socks and climbed into bed hearing sitars and thinking, I’ll fix that tapestry tomorrow.

    He never delivered his letters that day

    the dark portrait of “Little Boy’s” fruitsNagasaki-verbrannter-bub

    still haunts me

    my eyes averted to the window

    I didn’t want to look

    God I wish the sun would go down

    Because its brightness mocked the darkness here

    But I knew I had to look

    For the sake of humanity

    both their humanity and mine

    shades of black and white

    Anything more and my eyes would burn

    And my heart would stop

    like that time in Delhi at the shrine of a fallen saint

    when once again the cold-iron fruits of our violence

    seized the moment and affirmed

    “Goodness died today”

    ‘Yomokitu, August, 1945, in memoriam’,

    it said in small block letters below

    but that part was a mere speck in my eye

    because words were silly and pathetic

    How could one look at that image

    and still?

    Skin black like toast you scrape off in the morning…

    and still?

    Distended, bloated tubes of flesh floating in ashen water…

    Look and still?

    Did you know they tried to swallow to quench their thirst

    But got only fire in return

    Look and still?

    They tried to find their salvation

    from heat too hot to think

    From black rain too dark to see

    But the water too was poison

    But what was not poison that day?

    Weren’t even the minds toxic that could unleash this?

    and still?

    Who asked the woman and child?

    whose imprint of their clinging eternally,

    rests in concrete

    Who asked the animals and trees?

    Who asked the old man?

    he never delivered his letters that day

    his bicycle melted from beneath him

    Valentine Baby

    February 14, 1968 — Morning

    Just before dawn on Valentine’s Day, a fair skinned, red-haired young woman awoke to sharp pains in her abdomen.  She clutched her overfull round belly, then felt something warm and damp between her legs.

    It was time.

    She was alone.  There was no one to call.  There was no bag to grab because no bag had been packed. She was going nowhere.  From the old bed, she glanced around the small hotel room in the dim but growing light sneaking around the curtains.  She rolled the worn sheets down to just below her knees and clutched the sides of the bed as her second contraction gripped her.

    Despite her meager surroundings and swollen body, she felt lighter for the first time in months, knowing that she was to finally rid herself of this menace, this burden. Read more…

    God is With You

    Everybody knows certain things about God. For example:

    God is Love (sometimes); God is omnipotent; in God all things are possible;God is 1 in 3 or at least 3 in 1; God knows and hears prayers from Everybody, including Chris Matthews and even those people in the cities of Cantons in OH, KS, GA, SD, and TX; God is Spirit (except when in man-or-hurricane/tsunami form); God is a god of history (though technically outside it, yet acting in it, but not so much that he interferes with our free will, er, I mean…)

    God Blesses America. Everybody knows that. Presidents tell us that all the time. But I didn’t know this, that God wanted the Rocky VI sequel to be made: “I felt as though God was moving me to do this.” (Sylvester Stallone)

    God sent his only begotten son; God is a “man of war” (Exodus 15); God is male; God likes prophets who don’t eat or have sex much; God is a jealous god (Ex: 34:14) who thinks sacrifices and offerings are pretty neat, especially of chocolate, incense, booze, or Facebook during Lent—which by the way is “brutal, but valuable”(see Wall Street Journal–http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123509424821028985.html); but He just can’t beat the blood ofa good old-fashioned giraffe in a volcano for rain or whatever animal is convenient.

    God hates fags

    But God is also a yoga-master; God is a Goddess; God has an elephant head; God hates shrimp; God led Bush to be re-elected and to attack Iraq; God helped elect Obama; Go wants socialized health care; God blesses Guatemalan chicken bus-drivers and passengers—at least the ones that survive; God turns Sabbath-breaking Jews into despised apes (Quran 2:55-56); God blesses those who have not yet seen and still believe (church sign a couple blocks from here…really? that’s who is blessed?); “God helped Castro heal” (Hugo Chavez); God told Pat Robertson about the tsunami and that later this year “chaos will rule”; luckily, as I mentioned, God hears prayers; “God said he’s going to restrain the evil but he isn’t necessarily going to restrain it in the beginning. A lot of these things can be reversed – we just need to do a lot of praying.” God is the sun behind the clouds; God likes to be portrayed as a deer drinking pink water; Also God can be interviewed at http://www.theinterviewwithgod.com.

    All of these attributes of God are pretty obvious. There’s really not much room for debate there.

    But, here are 4 things you probably didn’t know about God:
    1)God wants us to disavow your belief in Him because only those who don’t believe in Him will make it to heaven. God is very, very tricky that way.

    2)God Blesses Me.
    Before you scoff, I have evidence that God Blesses Me (not that evidence is necessary–they call it FAITH for a Reason):
    a)First, how else do you explain the fact that I survived many trips around the sun and to foreign countries and am now back home without any deaths, concussions, scars, or animal diseases? (Wait, I might have to slightly revise that one, because I did get Salmonella in Mexico in December—is god punishing me or testing me? No, he is just blessing the salmonella too, so my argument still holds)
    b)Second, many people have told me that God blesses me or at least they prayed for me, (Dios te bendiga!) (really? ahh, “that’s sweet! thanks! now I’m going to snort this cocaine and fuck that girl”–David Cross) I have to admit that this is a weaker reason, because it could just be that their prayer vibes directly entered my bones, red blood cells, and synapses without going to God first, but who knows?

    c)Finally, ummm, there’s that feeling I have that God Blesses Me.
    (remember that Friends episode with Phoebe who believes that her dead mother is in her stray cat’s body?)
    C: a + b + c = GBM

    3)God demands vegetarianism and economic justice.

    4)Most importantly: God told me to write this and post it
    Lucky for me I already I agree with all these things. It’s great having God on my side. I feel a rush already. If someone asks, “Why ….?” for any particular fact, action, value, judgment, etc., I know that God is right there, backing me up. Power, man, power!!!

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