Thursday, June 07, 2007


She lives
In a compromised future

She plays
On the soil
Amongst burned metal

Their dogs are sick
Have lost
Their fur

Castles of trash

2 little piglets
Have taken control
Of their keepers souls

Poor little girl
Victim of
Such folly

Wednesday, June 06, 2007


The BMW has
A busted
Front light

Drug dealers
Fall on hard times

Trash and ashes
Surround their limbs

The malnourished horse
Won’t be able
To help them

They stand with
Confused smiles

They have medical accents
When they speak:

The feds took
My things
I been staying here
And there
With friends
But I still have
Around 1000 dollars
Of snow

How elaborate
Their language
Of strokes

Tuesday, June 05, 2007


Pedro el ratón
Has a cockroach predicament

The exterminators
When to work
At his associate’s house

And now the bugs
Are all over his place

For my part I have
Been spraying
An eco—friendly
Mist on the perimeter
With limited results

This situation needs
To right tool
The one use
By professionals


Even though
I am
At playing the strings

The guitar makes
A great effect when
You pull on them

I also know enough
To play the piano

Like with any
Other instrument
It takes just
A few notes

To play it
Or even
Make a song

Monday, June 04, 2007


The tiny dog followed us
On the beach
It struggled with the sand
The way non 4x4 vehicle
Moves hesitantly
On unstable turf

It appears to have
Been born
Not long ago
And it makes sounds
That dogs in distress make

Some kind of winning
But it resembles
Something like music
Like a song or a chant
Of devotion and loyalty

Its caretaker told us
This dog will be able
To speak eloquently
He will sit cross-legged
With a drink in one hand
An a cigar on the other
While striking
Charming conversation


The car that
Passes me
With it’s twisted hair driver
Is a bowl of rice

I sometimes
Don’t believe
In the pronunciation
Of retreat

It is hard to realize
That only a few
Meters away
The temperature
Changes drastically

The mounts of sand
Look more comfortable
Than a deluxe coffin

Staring hard
And drinking beer
Form an aluminum can
Is hazardous
Because your lips
Are touching
A transmitter
And your tongue
Is tasting my thoughts
Your throat will choke
With the inevitable

And you can loose
Your equilibrium
And fall through the wind
And into the earth