chat with too many
men on the internet
while we are texting
are we really meeting
park bar church
or is it simply
a wrong number
to someone
you thought
you knew
what is “meeting” in
this age is it the knock
on the text app door
“Hey there”
“Boss picture”
or
“What’s your blog
I only read poetry”
when do you become
lovers hours pass
how many
hours must pass
to be lovers
Last night’s moon
hidden behind elderly
beards flaked into
our room last night
you asleep away from
me I watched the lunar
dance across the
rippling tide of your
chest and stomach I
move closer hand on
stomach like a couple
of old dogs and kissing
your eyes and throat
you growl in your sleep
a lion cub and roll towards
me like a back landed
turtle you place your leg
over my hip and whisper
my name in Spanish
Portuguese English
growling like a suspicious
dog you roll me into
moonlight and fireflies
kissing me
in the
light
wafting in
I’m tired I say
but I must write
I reply
cuckoo clocks
my muse left
this morning
inspiration empty
hollow words and
hollow logs are places
in which
I hide
Skies wept today
in Hawaii it came
in sheets and
sprinkles it stopped
and started like a clogged
hose now my eaves are
dripping like the
boy and the dyke
skies the color of my
den a softened mouse gray
covers Diamond Head
and my tiny house the crest
of the volcano surrounded
by white balloons of rain
Waikiki is bustling not bubbling
effervescence of residents
dampened by moisture
skies resemble late afternoon
prematurely darkening gloom
lands on my valley like a lid
rain is coming down now
clarifying my streets and
alleyways the dirt going down
drains anticipating blue skies
tomorrow
I disappeared
today bubbles
popping while
poetry died
success bravo
they yelled before
ink was dry but I
absorbed the praise
like fountain pens
today I can’t write
but for lymrics you see
I met a man from
Liverpool
I wrote a short
poem instead
I might’ve said
hello
