Saturday, July 30, 2011

stumbling romance by the pool table.

it was a chilly evening in november, the kind that
lets you know winter's coming to collect on all that
fun you had in the summertime. i was in Europa bar
once again, waiting on my boy Rah once again(this
was kind of a running gag somewhat; Rah lived all
the way down by August Martin High School, yet would
always tell me "yo i'll be there in 15 minutes" yet
wouldn't show for an hour or more). Europa Bar on
Sutphin Boulevard was one of those places where women
young and old danced for dollar bills in lingerie.
this night, i sat and drank with Tatiana, a lusty
Dominican lady and watched the clock and my drink.
all of a sudden, behind me, loud voices erupt.

"don't come near me!!" that came from one of the
dancers over in the corner where coats would be
hung up. i had seen her once or twice before. her
eyes were coated in bluish eyeshadow, which did
nothing to take away from the sheen on her face
brought on by ten minute sets and about $20 worth
of Cuervo. she was Brazilian, pale-skinned with
blonde hair that could do with a Grand Concourse
wash and set. she wore a one piece outfit that was
a cross between a polo shirt and skirt, and would
have done her well 10 years and one beer belly ago.
at the moment, she was trying to fend off this guy
who was hammered. he had the look of a construction
worker, dusty boots and all. he looked to be from
Mexico at first guess, and the moustache added to
it. he stumbled towards her as if to grab her up
in his arms. henrique, the owner came from behind
the bar and in one motion put himself between the
dancer and the drunkard and steered him out the
double doors. as a final motion, he got the guy's
coat and lightly tossed it out. after about a minute
or so of laughter, i finished my drink and got out
of dodge. i know a cue when i see one.

haiku 7.30.11

'even a rose can
wither,' i thought as she got
on the bar to dance.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

merging desires

*for brownin'*

moments come
when thoughts of you
laced with summer's honey and the blush of joy
that daub the sands beneath your eyes
rush back and forth within my blood
like cars on California freeways
all important
all impatient
and each one faster than the next
it explains how
i am becoming used
to the cadence of my heartstrings
in your presence

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

confusion haiku #3(from the archives)

is love forever?
or just at the end of your
favorite movie?

Sunday, July 24, 2011

haiku 7.24.11

alone with just her
insecurities, she finds
her lies not as warm.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

night is on my mind

the streets
sweat buckets now
its pores devoid of crisp and cool breeze
hours of humidity makes one
forget the day's borderline
but the night still calls
it sings
under sharp streetlamps
hooks nostrils
with a perfume of daisy petals, lamb's spread
and chilled beer
relief flies by
like cabs refusing to go uptown
and the stickiness you strove to deny
you now share with the floors of the second car
of the N train
but if the night can't sleep
with all of this heat
who are you to refuse
when it throws back the covers
and asks you to join in?


Wednesday, July 20, 2011

haiku 7.20.11

*for brownin*

peanut butter gets
put to shame by your skin; love
that spread of your smile.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Superman versus SB 1070

heard Superman
gave up American citizenship
maybe he figured
with Bachmann, Palin
and the rest of the phony patriots
going after illegal aliens
he needed to get outta dodge
since they spread around
enough of that kryptonite in paper form
and he had heard
Neptune was nice this time of year

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

gentle chemistry

*for brownin'*

i forget sometimes
that just because the breeze that carries your laugh
softens with time doesn't mean
it won't return
i keep myself from chasing down
fading fingers of sunset
as they fall behind trees
and into the lockboxes of memory
because i miss the softness of your fists
and in all of this
i have become a sentimental scientist
knowing there is no formula
that can make days run into each other
but knowing you
makes me begin to compose one
with cinnamon and gold leaf
upon my hands.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

recession soup bowl

if america eats its young
they must want their meal to be a stew
because dreams
get shattered like bones
and just like marrow
spirit is sucked out
yet we see no need
to give the system indigestion
just more menu options

Friday, July 8, 2011

haiku 10.11.05 (from the archives)

with eyes like yours, love
vineyards should never exist
my heart is the glass

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

sour mash(short story)

he couldn't tear himself away from this spot lately.
the sun began its lazy, limbo-like descent as he
walked to the edge of the creek. his feet sank
slightly here and there within the soil, but not
enough to slow him down. Josh Crandall knew these
woods. in one hand, he carried a dull metal flask
filled with sour mash peach whiskey he brought from
home. as he got closer to the edge, he took a long
swig from its neck. sweat cropped up on his forehead
like fresh cotton. his maroon shirt was spotted with
perspiration. the water loomed before him, silent
save for the sound of the breeze licking at its surface.
Josh stood there, and looked out over the water, his
eyes darting from tree to tree on the opposite shore.
he shrugged and took a swig. it was no use in doing
that, he thought to himself. few folks, except for
the insane or the lost traipsed through these woods
a half mile from the highway. and he had nothing to

Josh knew these woods well when he was a boy. back
then, he would cut through with an uncle and fire
BB guns at possums as his uncle used buckshot on the
bigger stuff like alligators. he tugged at his collar.
'hotter'n usual.' he said out loud. a few birds answered
him with their own chatter. he ran a hand through his
sandy brown hair, and let his mind wander back to a month ago.
when he was last here. it was nightfall then, the
kind of night that would scare the brimstone out of
the devil. and Josh could hear the screams again. he
took another swig but they kept getting louder in his
ear. as he closed his eyes, his mind flashed snapshots.
young girl. 15. cute legs. wore a Jonas Bros. tee shirt.
her nose bled from his fist. braces were fresh. she kept
crying without a sound. Josh coughed, and he opened his
eyes to look at the water again but the pictures kept
coming. he remembered her. Madison. 15. Catholic, but
believed in nature's protection. she clutched her rosary
while he had his way. she had skin like the flesh of a
strawberry. she smelled like one too. he finished off the
flask. it was here. all of it, here. the whole thing
ate at Josh for the past two weeks. the TV news reports.
the posters up on trees and walls. the big notice with
her picture up at the Circle K he saw her by back then.
he thought he could get away by coming back to the spot.

Josh felt hollow inside. she wasn't the first girl he
violated. just the first who fought back. Madison. even
weak, she spat in his face and clawed at him. she even
jabbed him with the cross of her rosary. which he then
grabbed a hold of and choked the life out of her with.
then he let the water take her. it was deep enough at
this end for her to slip below the surface. no one would
know where she was. no one would find her. Josh let out
a belch. it wasn't safe here. the birds had stopped their
shouts. the sun was close enough to tuck itself under the
horizon now. only a few last points of sharp light were
at his feet. as he looked down, he saw a glint off of
the root off to his right. Josh bent over to look. 'what
are you doing, dummy?' he thought. but he had to look.
he was compelled to look. he leaned forward from the
waist. his eyes closed slightly. 'damn whisky, can't even
focus..' he muttered. the object had some mud on it. at
that moment, Josh heard Madison's screams again in his
ear. he stretched his left hand out to touch the object.
it was her rosary. he tugged at it slightly but it wouldn't
give. he yanked hard and at that moment, there was a loud
splash. a gator!! it shot out of the water so fast that
Josh couldn't move nor finish his scream. its jaws had
clamped down hard on his neck. with speed, it dragged
Josh, still thrashing, underneath the murky water. all that
was left on the shore by the tree root was Madison's
rosary, and Josh's flask right beside it.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

her sunbeam haiku

*for brownin'*

you carry a glow
that coats me like sunbeams as
i stand in cool seas

how to trump teabaggers

trumping a shit-kicker
when they tell you to
'go back where you came from'
is tricky only in the delivery
feces does petrify
and at last word
Europe fared better
without their family line

Sunday, July 3, 2011

butterfly stroke haiku

'wade in the water'
is a great song but it's not
how i choose to swim.

quote of the day 7.3.11

that sums it up.

feet of clay

(Memorial for the Alexander Kieland Platform, Randaberg, Norway)

i suppose i should begin this blog post with the initial
cause behind it. namely, that my legs ached. ached to the
point where standing was excruciating initially. i've dealt
with it throughout life, mainly because i was born with
fallen arches. the condition is better known as 'flat feet'.
most wouldn't know because i don't talk about it much. i
walk a lot, a good source of exercise for me. sometimes, i
get periods like i had yesterday, where the pain makes it
almost a struggle to stand upright, let alone walk. it always
begins with the left ankle and radiates to the right ankle
since that's what i rely on for strength and lift. treatment
involves a great deal of water(especially if i've had a few
adult beverages), elevation and foot baths periodically. i
had always heard of the phrase 'feet of clay' but i never
thought i'd personify it like this.

the other painful part of yesterday was dealing with the
fact that i have flirted with depression and thought it
would not get me. wouldn't affect me. i forget sometimes
that one of my main strengths, which is to internalize things
heavily and forge ahead, can lead to serious setbacks. i've
taken on so many issues, heard stories from other people,
shared their fears and tried to help resolve their problems
that all of that residue still clung to my own psyche in
bits and pieces. and when that happens for me, i tend to
get down. the light starts getting dim. and i'm fully aware
of what's going on, but climbing out of it gets difficult.
but i get out of it. and sometimes i have to rely on help.
to quote from Naruto, 'heroes are supposed to show up late.'
even when you're the hero in question.

what i take from this period is that i'm much stronger and
i'm much wiser. and now, i'm taking the initiative to be a
bit more pointed in replies and comments. and to be more
aware that people lashing out at you is their way of crying
for help in certain circumstances. for example, one female
friend of mine was going through a traumatic situation. in
an online chat, she chose to critique me and my writing of
late. she felt i was hiding hurt behind the words, building
a facade to show everyone i was okay. she was right to a
point, because writing for me is a cathartic process. there
will be elements of that initial emotion that i channel to
get stuff out. but where she erred was that her critique
stemmed from her own hurt, her own anger. and that clouded
her vision and in turn, she chose to see me as wasting my
creativity. of course, i deem that to be false. but i thank
her because she reminds me that it is okay to be hurt. it
is okay to let that remain out in the open like the brown
spots of the leaves of ferns on your windowsill. but you
can't leave it unattended and you can't cover it up.

so that was a lesson yesterday for me. we've all got our
own feet of clay. and whatever pain and tears we shed, we
have to bear in mind that we're just making them strong
enough to stand on for the next challenge we face. it does
not mean i won't be back in this same place again. i know
i will. but each time, it gets less and less bothersome to
deal with. pardon my ramble, and i hope this helps you in
some way if you've read all of this.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

blood relative haiku #1

when your blood puts a
blade in your heart, you can't
act like there's no pain.

untitled 6.25.11

not often
but at times
my soul will appear
to be mangled like
any automobile after an accident
i just need to remember
that it can always be rebuilt