Thursday, August 27, 2009


The ocean’s breeze is a natural air conditioner
The psychologist advised
On Mexican radio
Saying that healthy people
Need more therapy than insane folks

And all I know is that is getting pretty hot
And it would be nice to drink
A very cold beer
Or maybe two or three

Watching the sunset
Taking pictures
And trying to figure out
If the American couple down the hill
Is playing with Rosa

Or one of Rosa’s offspring
Because they all look happy
Walking and running on the fields
Near the sea

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


Mice are dying
It is the cost of being near jets
Of standing under them
And not in them

The force continues to be a force
On land or in the sky
As it pierces the whimsical clouds
Were angels & demons play
Dramatic games of chess

Their immune system is wakened
By their desire
To be so near
Oh so close to
The craftsmen of the air

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


This morning I woke up
With fast words coming out of the radio
About half the population being infected
On this fall

In the fall of fools
In the fall of the prideful
In the fall of this year

The fall is a harvest
The fall is gravity
The fall is only natural
The fall is conceptual

The fall of men
The fall of women
The fall in the garden of wantonness
The fall of the snake

The fall where dogs & cats laugh

I got up and looked at the water
I made coffee
And changed the radio station
I looked at the water again
And remembered the tourist impresario saying
Father ocean & mother earth

I walked to my car and noticed
It was dusty again
And I drove on the dirt roads
Looked at horses eating from garbage cans
Looked at pretty girls driving nice cars
Looking confused and out of place
Looked at things I should have not looked at
I looked at everything and realized
I had looked at nothing

I arrived at the house
Said hello to the landlord and his wife
Got the key from them
And walked towards my friends
They liked the house
I liked the house
They liked the plants
I liked the plants
They liked me & I liked them

They left & I went back to the landlords
I read them one of my poems
The husband fell asleep and
His wife said to me
It sounds like you are in love

Monday, August 24, 2009


They cleaned the car
As I rested my hands on the wheel
I listened to the radio
And they sang
I listened and they sang like this:


They could keep the tone
They could sing
They were never out of tune
As they took the
Dust off my car

They had an enlightened second nature
Under their dirty clothes
They carried their conscience in their eyes