Friday, August 7, 2015


From unknown knowingness
indistinct beginning
such jewels begin to color
pathways of paradise.

Jade and ruby motion
gather time from nothing
through air to light
across this brief respite
from shadow.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Out By The Equator

Out by the Equator
there’s one o’ those places
all ex-pats go.

Crowded between streets
packed with motor bikes
the food carts pushed
by vendors shouting
special sauce
maybe a souvenir
hawker or two
waving postcards
or carved wood
dicks equipped
with bottle openers

Yeah, this place
it’s not too big
and a shout
will fetch an exotic look
from the bartender
but that beer arrives
after growing a pair
of legs with a smile
like California sun
and a heart like flint
so you and the few
talk how things
have changed
since tourists
found the old

Now expat A
and expat B
in their vodka cloud
how the natives
just don’t behave

Saturday, January 31, 2015

Happy Hour

Happy Hour was days ago,

         that bottle of rye is empty.

All the glasses are clean,

         the ice long gone.

Then you smile,

         and I am drunk again.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

The Watching Earth

The watching earth
releases words,
mouthed by a corpse,
telling of the Far-Away
where no door,
bolted and locked,
shuts out
foggy truth.

From a Harbor of Pleasant Aspect

From a harbor of pleasant aspect
         exploration began,
a search for an end of horizons.

Decades with spice and tales of exotic sex
         return with a tide
flowing with fragile secrets.

Such thoughts hung in a dark vault,
         together with journeys,
Far from the weight of noon sun.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Crows and Gulls

Crows and gulls
ride the wind’s hiss;
all soar together,
cautious wingtips
touch anticipation.
Feathers discover
the unseen lift.
How grand
you and I
have no need
of feathers!

Monday, December 9, 2013

What Lies Below

Smoke yellow moon
sailing on
San Francisco homeless
wrapped in fall leaves
and ragged shopping cart
chewing foil guarded
pause in a heroin fix
curling into the Geary Street night
green and red glow from
traffic lights
edging a pretense of xmas
up hill
at Masonic Avenue
searching cars for whiskey
with easy change pockets
of all-night diners