Saturday, March 28, 2009


They did not flash their
Blue and red lights at me
They just honked
With that awkward sound
That rescue vehicles made

I stopped on the side
Of the road
And they asked me
If I worked at the
Plaza del Zapato

I thought that
Was funny but I answered no
And then they asked
If I played with the band
And I thought that was even funnier

And I told them that I did not
But that I was a musician
And they said I look
Like a musician

And then one of the cops said
That he liked to jam
I asked if he played guitar
And he said that he sings
And he began to sing
First a song that
I did not recognized
And then one from
The Black Crows
And he stood there
Singing in the night

Friday, March 27, 2009


“Hey sunshine!”

I looked around
To find the source
Of that voice

Those feminine
Vocal chords
That uttered
Those words

I greeted her
She was young
Blond & pretty

I have never
Seen this one before

Then she tried
To sell me
A spa package

She said
That she could
Even give me
A massage

I thank her
And she gave me
Her business card

I knew she
Would not buy
A microwave radio

She was selling me
A microwave service

4 AM

The singing bird
This morning competes
With the Wall Street Journal
Radio show

They play an excerpt
Of a song that says:

“I need you”
“I need you”

They played it twice
And I understand why
It is because
The like winning

But the bird sings
Longer & better
And it’s definitely
A natural

I walk outside
To congratulate
The winner
But it flies away

So I enter the kitchen
And drink some water
Then go back to sleep
But it starts singing again

I go outside
It flies away
I go back inside
And read out loud
Then I go to bed

Thursday, March 26, 2009


A bunch of birds
Have descended on my homestead
Perhaps it was the night cry
Of my visitor
That consistent
Nocturnal song

And now all these different birds
From different families
Are gathered

And I have to endure
That song
That sound

And it sometimes
Wakes me up
Last time
It was competing
With classical music

And I guess
It is all worth it
To get to see them
And hear them

They help me think
I live in the
Garden of Eden

Wednesday, March 25, 2009


I rest on my bed
Humming bird on the window
Remembering you

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

different might be better

took care
of some dirty laundry
and drove
down the hill
to get some coffee

said hello
to a friend
and met a new one

from my table
i could see
the guy from
channel 12

he was paying
for some food
at the cash registered

he looks different
in person

perhaps he
should no be
so much in tv

Monday, March 23, 2009


you came at midday
complementing my black boots
not enough for you

Sunday, March 22, 2009


Sounds like
Sound advice to me

Sounds like
The music of success

Sounds like
A sound machine

Sound pretty & sexy
Sounds like it should

I rather think of it this way
Otherwise the sound will remain
Regardless of anything & everything
You say or do

The sound of morality
The sound of correction
The sound of work
The sound of what is right


And we beat the
Herd of deer
To the top of the mountain

It was still dark
When I was offered coffee
And I drank it
With the cold dawn

It was still dark
As I checked my rifle
And handled my knife
Very carefully

It was still dark
As we climbed
The rough terrain
And I fell in love
With the boulders

It was still dark
As I thought
Of yesterday
Of how I pulled the trigger
And how I missed

It was still dark
But we weren’t late
Because we spotted them

We saw them climbing
Straight towards us
Towards our intentions
Towards our stomachs
Towards our desires
Towards our wagers
Towards our rifles

But it was not dark anymore
Because I could see them
Through my cross hairs
And if I moved them
A little to the right
Or a little to the left
I would see new images
On my scope
They stood there
Frozen like brand new cars

And then…
The sound
Yes that sound
That accompanies the flash
And the push
That playful push
Similar to that
Of an annoyed lover

And the mountain
Became a disco
Because everybody was dancing
And even though we
Could no see them
There were others among us
Making music
With their music machines

And I stood there
On top of the wilderness
And I thought the gun
On my hands
Must be a guitar
Because my knees
Were shaking