roses are red

violets are blue

i want to

have fun

with you

POEM 7


Poetry tends to change
The meaning of words

It can also
Change colors

The school seems ready
For heavy work
They like fighting
In the water
My kind of angels

I don’t think peroxide
Will be a problem
Metaphors tend to
Change things

The skins turn red
With the rays
Of the sun

The ball of fire
Burns off
The gray
In the clouds
Overcast disappears

But the heavens
And the oceans
Remain blue

If we can’t find
A compromise
If we can’t agree
Green will take over
Reality will be healthier

TÚ


Escribo en la mesa
El café está un lado
De la hoja blanca

De vez en cuando
Te miro

Me observas acongojada
Te sonrío

ART


You have to see
Poetry as an
Art form

Not a sin
But a virtue

Like that of
A Saint
A Shaman
A poet

Frugality
Is spiritual

Blessed are
The poets in spirit
Because they shall
Be comforted

Y & E


I could see
The clouds
Burning like fine
Cuban tobacco

I was enchanted
With the effects
Of marketing

I was loving
Every girl

Because I knew
To love beauty
Is the right
Thing to do

I have never
Met an
Ugly girl anyway

It was a motion
Of principle
Not of covetousness

ANOTHER ONE


Jim Morrison
Was also an alien

He was obsessed
With crossing borders

He would go crazy
In the pyramids
Of Mexico

He wrote & sang
That catchy tune

Break on through
To the other side

What a nice song
To listen too
While on the line
Waiting to cross
To America

HENRY’S MARKETPLACE
CHULA VISTA WITH
DAMAGES


Abuse
Neglect
Hatred
&
Poison

The store where
The farmers go
To buy poppy seeds

The dead
Chinese fish
INSIDE
Ron Cohn’s case
Are more efficient
Than polonium 210

Eco fruit
Baptized
With legal
Pesticides

Tenebrous presence
Axis of intoxication
With prosecutions

Organic dust
On grocery shelves
With canisters
Of mystical death

The poor
Disenfranchised
Disenchanted
Slaves
Are the workers
From the 3rd world
Competing with
Caucasian counterparts
For the favor
Of the rich man

Such a mirage
Of fairness
Adulteration of equality
Manufacturing of
Workman’s suffering

Cascade of liabilities
With frozen bread
Ready for
The ovens of greed
Blue words
In the grey sea
Of retail

THE BEAST A MONSTER


The frail man
Said he hates
The beast

He looks so weak
I fear the wind
Might blow
Him away

He said he knows
My papá
They went to
School together
He told me

I couldn’t help
But to feel sympathy
For him

He wants
To help out
An offered to getThe monster wet

Sometimes
Extreme measures
Are necessary

Perhaps the word
“Goodbye”
Is more
Than enough

BLUE BICYCLE


The little brown mouse
Has my blue bicycle

He might fall
With it

Exercise with
Stolen property
Has always
Been dangerous

First he took
The black canister
That turns water
Into poison

The bicycle
Will be his
Transportation
In Dante’s inferno

LUGAR DE LA CUEVA


En una cueva
De perdición

Decadencia humana
Almas descompuestas
Muerte en movimiento

Olvido del triunfo
En los periféricos
Del éxito

Temporada de cacería
Con sonrisas
De diamantes

Cosquilleos de adrenalina
En mis venas

Sudor de esperanza
Más sublime que
El calor de la
Sensual bienvenida

La tristeza
Es la energía
De las plegarias
La propulsión
De los rezos

MY PEACHES


I like picking peaches
In my mother’s property

Some are very sweet
Others are full
Of potential

Too much red meat
Is not good for you
The same is true
With pork

When the time comes
To go vegetarian
My beautiful peaches
Are there for me

THE READING CONTINUED


Some said it was sabotage
Others believed more in
Technical difficulties

I heard helicopters
Hovering above
The palace of culture

But I could not
See the flying machines

At the entrance
Guards stood
Holding assault riffles
Like rock stars hold
Electric guitars

It’s good
To see poets
Well protected here
In this Mexican
Wild—West
The poet stood there
With a dead microphone
And a wet speaker

Even though
There was no juice
And the beer sat
In unopened kegs
And the bottles of wine
Were ready for neophytes

The poet
Raised his index finger
Towards heaven
A poetic act by itself
And electricity returned
The speaker and the mike
Were resurrected

MIDNIGHT SPIDER


I red spider
Hid inside
My red shirt

Since I was
Heading towards
The bathroom
I decided to take it
With me

I shook the shirt
Above the toilet
But it wouldn’t fall
Into the water

So I grabbed
The hair brush
And brushed it off
And it got wet

It tried to swim
But I urinated on it
I flushed it down
And away it sailed
Towards the sea

CERCA DEL MAR


Un barco de amistad
Se asoma por mi ventana
Siempre está
Frente a mis ojos

Pareciera que
Mis lentes
Son buques

Lanchas pesqueras
Con anzuelos
Para corazones humanos

Las naves marinas
Se multiplican
Como los sexos
Del tercer mundo

Los binoculares metafísicos
Son esenciales
Para detectar
Intenciones húmedas

El mar de ha convertido
En un lecho de amor
Hasta los aviones
Se cogen a las avionetas

En la tierra
Están las cuevas
De propagación
Puedo hacer poemas
Con fertilizantes

THE HUNT:
THE GOOD SISTER
A GOOD MOTHER


There was a time
When I was angry with God
Because he made me a lion
I wanted to be an eagle

I always was
Getting in trouble at school
For bullying other animals
My father would be called in
And the teacher
Would give him the reports
On my bad behavior
Since dad believed
In the commandments
Of the Holy Instincts
—Something about “love is correction”—
He would exercise those precepts
On my feline body

Back then I didn’t comprehend
My structure
And I would play rough
With my classmates
I didn’t understand
Why they were afraid of me
But I did feel bad about it
I would always stop
When they would cry in pain
Their 4 furry little legs
Would shake

Our first attempt to imitate the king
Was hunting without supervision
On prohibited grounds
My brother and I thought
It would be a good idea
To go into papa’s lair
And take his hunting secrets
Out of their hiding place
He always thought we didn’t know
Where he hid his grownup things
But we always knew

When nobody was around
Usually at night
We would hunt the streets of our jungle
It was exhilarating to watch dogs
Run for their lives
We would fire away
That raw knowledge
But we would always miss
Those canines ran fast
We were fortunate that our disobedience
Didn’t cause any fatalities
Perhaps we can still find the memories
Of those efforts
Engraved on walls
Of elementary schools

It was later on that I understood
Hunting is the art of survival
Territorial protection
Nutritious food for family members
Exercise and enjoyment
For friends and love ones
Like with anything
Hunting gets easier with practice
Since hunting is work
Sometimes it is not fun
But it’s always necessary

The first kill
Is the hardest
Because your knees shake
But as you eat more and get stronger
The shaking subsides
You also learn to kill friends
That become foes
Not out of sport
But out of necessity
When they are too big
Such as a hippopotamus
The easiest way is to chase them
And make them trip
Using their biggest asset against them
Overweight animals tend to
Brake their necks when they fall

If the hippo dies in the water
You must use extreme caution
When entering to retrieve it
Sometimes lion hunters
—Usually doctors—
Can be hiding in camouflage
Waiting with 30’06’s
For someone like you
To get in the river

SLANDER:
THE BAD SISTER


Children are
The future
Of the family

The future
Of the world

When children
Are present
There’s no need
Feed them poison

You shouldn’t try
To brake
A family

The hearts of children
Are tender

Why do you want
To spear them
With venom?

Defamation
Of ancestry
In the ears
Of the innocent
Is a serious crime

Children
Are only hurt
By such things
Needles suffering

Sorry
I can’t overlook
This crime
I have a family
To protect

WORK

Del rio
Funeral home
I think
Del Juan
Funeral homes
Sounds better

About 9 rounds
Of rapid fire
Near midnight

It was the
Inferior eco
Of a 9 mm

I know
I can
Do it faster
With a 45

MONTES SANCHEZ


He seems like
A nice guy
The type that
Is trying to do
His job

I couldn’t spot
A pistol
On him
Perhaps he
Was wearing
An ankle holster

I find them good
For disguise
But impractical
In the field

Maybe he had
An AK—47
In his beat up
VW bug

But he was closer
To my threshold
And further away
From his
Pictographic beetle

I was tempted
To ask him
To enter

Perhaps he smelled
My intentions
So we talked
On the outside

I saw
A Mexican sun
A summer of
The 7th month
Tattooed in
His eyes

SPOTLIGHT


She cries
And her tears
Are blue

The price
Of fame
Constricts
The heart

And sometimes
The throat

Electronic
Prayers are
Not the best

But sometimes
That’s the only
Help there is

SECRET SWINE FARMER


Pedro
Champion of ratones

Rodent with
An ocean view

Apostle of
Child endangerment

Demolisher
Of natural resources

Virus for
Planet warming

Dealer of misery
A life
Like this
Is not worth much

It would better
For you
To become
A magician

An execute
A disappearing act

A


I can drink coffee
And look
At you
For eternity

I can sit
At your table
And watch you
Smile hesitantly
Forever

I can see
Your body
Create the most
Amazing light
Near the sea

I can feel
Your touch like
A nuclear summer

Like an ignition
Of the soul
Detonation
Of desire

NO LLEVO
TU CELULAR
EN MIS MANOS


Me caes gordo
Carlos Slim

Tú no quieres
A los mexicanos

Y los mexicanos
No te quieren

Tus servicios
Son pésimos

¿Por qué no bajas
Tus precios?

¿Por qué no ayudas
Al pueblo
Que te convirtió
En magnate?

¿Por qué no repartes
Tus riquezas
Con los pobres
Esos que te mantienen
En la cima de
Los millones?

Algunos dicen
Que tienes el
Primer lugar
Entre los más ricos
Del mundo

Yo digo
Que eres
El número 1
En ser codo

LES ILLUMINATIONS


I like to read it
As I sit
In the bathroom

It makes
More sense
That way

A good
Exercise for
Reading out loud

I just pretend
To have a
French accent

I am sure
The cows
Won’t mind

The horses
Are definitely
In agreement
With this

REVENGE


Mosquitoes land
On my skin
As I sleep

Pestering
Mini vampires
Of the night

I kill them
In daylight

They bite
In moonlight

I crush them
With my blue
Flyswatter

When they get
Too bloated
Lethargic is
Their escape

Sometimes they
Don’t even bother
To fly away

And when they
Lay dead
Burst open
I see my blood
Around them

EVENT


From her mouth
Came fireworks

So I walked
Away from
The shrine

I pass the
New quarters
Ex—houses
Of horses

We got away
And drove south

Because it was
A holy day
Not a holiday

ALFALFA


It feels good
To have a
Funeral home
Name after myself

Is an act
Of faith
To think
Of death
Everyday

When an engine
Overheats
It dies

That is why
The Arab
Looking guy
Wants a recorder

The motocross rider
Clad in red
Is an accident

Waiting to happen

BLACK URN


Waiting with strong smiles
Attached to lips
And teeth

Because
Poetry is everything
Everything is poetry

Vehicular clusters
Are broken coffins

Shivering sunglasses
On obese faces

I write fast
Without being able to read
What I put down
On the dirt road

It doesn’t matter
If you don’t know
How to read
But it’s important
To know how to see

The black cistern
Is in the mousetrap
It is just like mine
The one stolen

It is better
Than a Trojan Horse
It’s a can of cactuses
Canister of ambushes

JORGE


That’s the name
He gave me
When I asked him

¿Cómo te llamas?

He was reluctant
For little bit
I insisted
Then he
Coughed it up

Jorge
He said

He stopped me at the side
Of the dirt road
And wanted to know
The nature of the trouble
With his uncle

He said he was willing
To shoot a gun
In the defense
Of Pedro el Raton

That might be so
But the truth
Of the matter
Is that he needs
A car more than gun

His rearview mirror
Fell out of place
As he passed me
An when he tried
To leave the scene
After our nice
Little chat
His ride wouldn’t start

I talkedTo him about
God & family

I think
He understood

I liked his courage
So the first assignment
I will give him
Is to cleanout
El ratón´s filthy yard

He might also
Be on fire watch
And put out the flames
On his side
Of the fence

Or better yet
He can help
Them move out

PEST CONTROL


There´s a mouse
In de la Cueva
Time to
Take it out
Water will work
Fire too
A melody
Will make them
Dance away

THE CARNITAS COOK


Pedro el ratón
Did not want to see
The judge
To settle matters

He got nervous
And walked away

I got some cheese
For him
But he didn’t eat
Someone suggested
Antifreeze

All Amezquita
Would say is
Call us again
When it happens

A persistent problem
Wire gets stolen at night

And during
The daytime
El ratón burns plastic
And copper

The old man
Who likes to make carnitas
Got all excited
When he saw
The patrolman
So close to his hut

From his mouth
Flowed the most
Vibrant language
He sang to me like
A wild poet

It’s okay
I’ll return the favor to him
I will write music for his words
And make a song

MILITARY CHECK POINT


The hippest
Of all
Is the one that
Sits on top
Of the humvee

Holding the
Grenade launcher

Heavy artillery
Is poetic
In this corner
Of Latin-American

I don’t know why
The talk radio host
Speaks rubbish
About this company

They always say hello
To my children
As we drive by
And then wave goodbye
In the friendliest
Of fashions

As for me
Delightful thoughts
Come and
I secretly imagine
Pressing the trigger
I also dream with

Taking the
Whole rig home
And placing it
At my homestead

This reminds me of
My childhood
How we played
Inside the
WWII bunkers
Located not far from
The military check point

It was much better
Than the videogames
We couldn’t afford

Imagination
Overpowered
Expensive monitors

I suspect
The children
Of this region
Would like it too

4UVO689


Yet another Cherokee
With California
License plates

This one is grayish
Perhaps mid 80’s

It served as tow rig
For station wagon
In bad shape

2 no—class cholos
Were in
The jeep
(There’s high class cholos
Low grade cholos)

One of them was
At least smart
And kept quiet
As I questioned
Pedro el Raton
Abut the owner
Of the property
He has in disarray

The other one
The bona fide estupido
Opened his mouth
And with colorful language
Told me how much
He liked me

I guess the right thing
To do
Is to welcome him
Into the family
To take care of him
And lookout for him
As a long lost brother

How unpredictable
Is the path kinship

RECURRANCE


The white Cherokee
Honked 3 times

His/her face
Was not as repugnant
As the first time
I saw it

Now it looked more
Like a human being

Even though
It was swollen
Hangover red

The same repetition
A skipping of
The record
A broken record

That needs to
Be broken
A little more

A TRUCK PASSES ME
THEN I PASS THE TRUCK


They’re smoking cigars
A few cars behind me

2 middle age bozos
Moving to a rhythm
That is hard to fathom

Their domestic truck
Has a sticker on the
Back window’s
Lower left corner

Something about a police
Or Sherriff association

And the whole border
Smells like burnt grass

Even when I crossed
To the other side
After I got inspected
By a polite agent

(It seems these days
They are nicer than ever)

I can still smell that odor
On the grounds of the trendy
Outlet Stores

I could not find
The right insecticide
At the where—house
So I will have to do
The extermination by hand

It is fun
Like when you
Hold a flyswatter
As samurai sword
And the flies become
Evil enemies
Invading the homestead

The tough guy
With the pin up girl
Tattooed on his
Right arm
Helped me
To find the right screw
For my 5000 watt antenna
You can’t beat the price
When it’s free

On my way back
On the scenic road
Dry hills on one side
Sea… ships… and islands
On the other
I spotted a grey
Japanese sedan fast approaching
On my rearview mirror

I thought it was going to pass me
But it slowed down
And rode right next to my car

On the passenger side
There was a beautiful girl
I looked at her
And she seemed shy
Her companion was
Behind the wheel
His face covered with
Bandages and medical tape

Later on
It was suggested
It was her handy work

CONTRACTORS


The city of Rosarito
Has hired
A private contractor
For garbage removal

I like the folks that
Work for the city
The best

Because they helped me
With the waste
Gathered by
My front gate

The new guys seem
To be very concerned
They think
They might get
In trouble
If they enter
My street

How should I
Explain to them
I always
Wanted to be
In the cleaning business

EL COMANDANTE SILVA


His name conveys
A melody
A way to play a tune

Using air and
Soft tissue

Wind instruments!

One would think
He has music
In his veins

His secretary
Said he was not in
Not there

It was surprising to witness
How fast he got back
Perhaps he appeared
As an act of magic

Or maybe he
Is gifted with ubiquity
And can materialize
In different places
At the same time

A true artist!

I thought perhaps
We had the right man
A man that could help
The cause
Of Godliness
Of cleanliness

We are still waiting
To witness
The musical aid

So far there’s
No melody
Our hopes
Are on standby

HEALTH


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

GARBAGE


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

ORTHO


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

TECLAS


Even though
I am
better
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

PUPPY


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

WARNING


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

THE LAST COAT OF PAINT


So many folk
Visit the trailer
Across the canyon
It is painted blue

But I suspect
It might be red
Underneath

Even Pedro
El ratón
Likes to hang around
On its roof

People from
All walks of life
Show up at
That place

They wait
As if standing
In line
At a local charity

Hoping to be given
Frozen portions
At a high rate
Of belief

The dirt is ready
To serve as a bed

For those
Who might
Fall asleep

DUST


The man dressed
As a woman
Arrived in a
White Jeep Cherokee
An entered the
De la Cueva’s trailer

It was more glamorous
When David Bowie
Dressed in such a way

Somehow the
United Kingdom
Makes it seem
More chic

Third World
Drag queens
Carry a
Dullness on
Their faces

Poverty is
Their mascara
Smeared in
The corner of
Their eyes

NEAR SUMMER


It is easy to
Create fires

It is complicated
To put them out

Firefighters
Sometimes battle
Fire with fire

It is true that
You end up
With ashes

But that’s
The nature
Of the work

The irony of
It all
Is when a boat
Is burning
Surrounded by
So much water

In the middle
Of the
The ocean

COWS ON A HILL


O’s for breakfast
Are practical

It’s interesting how
Those who don’t
Eat Meat
Do drink milk

Ones kill the cow
And the others
Suck the life
From it

Is all the same
Because at the end
Everything looks
The same

It comes down to
The substance of
The greater good

Even with
Overcast skies
We can still hear
The airplanes
And we suspect
The landing strip
Is on top
Of the hill
That looks like
A table

El Cerro Del Coronel
Is more discreet
Because helicopters
Don’t need
Large flat runways
To do their work

It is fascinating
To find
Autochthonous warriors
With Greek names
And native accents
Driving around
The potholes

CAMBIOS

La parabola
Ya no es historia
Hoy es antena

La bomba
Succiona el agua
Con la fuerza
De una barco ebrio

La reparación
Del neumático
Es una caricia fósil

Pedro el ratón
Tiene un rifle 22

Cazar a un gato
Con ese calibre
Es hacerlo enojar

AMERICA


You have
Long legs

Black tight
Dickies pants

In a emo
Kind of way

Your long limbs
Make procreation

A wonderful
Proposition

THE MEXICAN SOMBRERO


Reading in a chapel
At la Jolla California
Is not that bad

This is a place
Where no one
Knows your name

The stain glass
In the background
Depicts God
With long hair
And beard

His arms Stretched
Towards the people
Under Him

Cholos & Housewives
Children and adultery

Under his
Right hand
There’s a sailor
Under his
Left hand
A marine

At his feet
There’s another type
Of fighter

One that also
Wears an uniform
He covers
His head with
A Mexican Sombrero

A Lutheran chapel
Not bad
Even the Germans
Had interesting experiments
With religion

Were they trying
To fish
For a new liturgy?

One with Mexican
Poetic symbols?

THE MEXICAN
RED WHEELBARROW



The sun burns bright
And the wind
Keeps it cool

Even the cops
Don’t come around
Anymore

I drove slowly
On the dirt road
And found
Some of my
Lost/Stolen
Tools

I stopped and
Opened my
Blue trunk
And placed
The red wheelbarrow
In it

It will
Be useful
To dig holes
To recycle lives
In the country
Where the horses
Stand with
Their backs
Towards the ocean

THE LINE ON THE SAND


Some kind
Of cleansing
Ritual
On the sand

Imagery of
Good intentions

But the littleMexican shaman
Was more convincing

She had
The power
To turn
The sea red

And disorient
Marine life

Even Aztec doctors
Showed up
At the border
Carrying grey magic

They would point
Their cameras
And microphones
To a border patrol guy
Relaxing in the park

REFLECTORS


Bacteria only lasts
For little while
Nature restores herself

Her antibiotics
Are killers

Amazing are
The preservation properties
Of salt

Redness lasts
But for a little while
Health always returns

The ocean waters
Become mirrors

They reflect
The blue skies

Dolphins are
Once again
Surfing the waves

If they can
Dance in the shit
It means
They are healthy

THE FISHERMAN & THE WITCH


The witch threw her curse
On the ocean
Inside a black
Plastic bag
She made sure
To toss it over
The other side
Of the fence
It landed
In California waters

The fisherman
And I
Watched from
Latin-American sands
The angler told me
That she was up
To no good
Adding witchcraft
To salt water

He told me of
A time when he
Fished an aluminum ball
And as he was
Getting ready to toss
His catch
It ripped open
He found wax figurines
And a pair
Of golden rings
He kept the gold
And threw
Everything else away
He said he does believe
In the malevolent
Effects of witchcraft
But he also believes
In Gold

The next day
I found a seal on the sand
Everybody thought
It was tired
Just resting
On the shore

But I knew
The seal was not well
I also knew
It was American
The fisherman agreed

The waves were red
And the sands
Were Caspian Blue

ALTERNATIVE MEDICINE


He approached me
With a cell phone on
His hand

Just like the words of
The Tigres del Norte song

He said someone told him
I spoke Spanish

I said
Sí

Then he asked me
If I knew
Who Hank Ron is
I told him I never heard of
That person

He looked at me intensely
And then I said
Perhaps I have heard the name
Every now and then

Then he told me he was
His body guard

(There was a smile
Of Accomplishment
On his face)

That he was sent to buy
Some supplements for him

At that time
I was selling
Organic products at
Henry’s Marketplace
Chula Vista

He takes a lot stuff
He added

All of the sudden
I was confused with
Ron Cohn
The owner of the store
And Hank Ron
The owner of
The body guard

Then he handed me his
Cellular phone and said
Speak to the lady
She will give you instructions

I was hesitant
To put my head
Near the radiation
Dispensing device

There is a reason why I
Don’t own a mobile phone

For this type
Of communications
I prefer the use of
A repeater on a
Very High Frequency

The lady on the line
Had a pleasant voice

She told the
The products
They were looking for

And I helped
The Tijuana customer

He seemed very thankful
And made emphasis
In saying
I will always remember you
Even if you cut
Your beard off
I will remember you

I eventually had
To get rid off
The beard
The estranged wife
Didn’t like it

NIGHT VISIT


When I got there
His wife was
Praying the Rosary
It was more screaming
Then praying

The security guard
Opened the gate
He let me enter
He looked nervous

I knocked on
The door
And yelled
From the patio

But his wife
Would intensify
The volume
Of her chants

As if she
Was trying
To drown
My voice
With her supplications

I left
The following morning
I got the news

I didn’t know
The cops
Were killing
One another

CLASS


The lady sitting next to me
Was from Homeland Security
But she actually
Was kind of pretty
I liked the profile
Of her face

Her tone of voice
Seemed very familiar
She even had
The name of one
Of my cousins
I would have liked
To talk to her more
But she seemed
Kind of nervous

Oh and the teacher!
The teacher had long legs
Like the girls from
A ZZ Top Video
She told me
She was going
To tattoo my name
On her self
So she didn’t forge it

2 TIJUANA POLICEMEN
NEAR THE WATER


Agent Alejandro Arrollo
Was near the ocean
An extension of his name
Was close enough
To the salt in the Pacific

He thought my sunglasses
Were suspicious
I though his were unsightly
Scaring away the fish
In the sea

It would be a futile attempt
To try to explain to him
The effect of
Ultra Violet Rays

Since Arrollo
Signifies Creek
I thought perhaps
We would understand
Aquatic language

But that only
Got him obsessed
With my little
Blue car

He searched
My automobile
So I asked
To see the Judge
My request
Activated him
He frisked me

I know he was looking
For a gun
But I only had
The one I was born with
The one God gave me

Usually the wives
Have first pick
And in case
Of emergencies
A concubine

Lord knows I try

To forget about
These themes
Of cats with
Badges and guns

I would like to write
Nice little poems
About pretty girls
And fluttering butterflies
Inside many stomachs

TAINTED DOLLAR


When I went in
To claim my property
(My car)
To be specific
The Tijuana cop
Drew his gun
And inserted
A fresh magazine

His eyes were
Focused on me
Motionless in concentration
But my pupils
Followed his
Every movement

And even tough
It was hot outside
It got very cold
Inside the room

He placed
The Italian pistol
Lock and loaded
On the counter
And slid it
Till it was
In front of me

It was
An ugly
Piece of work

It wasn’t pretty
Like a 1911
Or beautifully dependable
Like a Glock
It didn’t have
The capriciously amphibious
Caliber of 45

So I let it go
Then another faceless
Policeman grabbed it
And left

DISCUSSION BETWEEN 2 POETS


A cantina owner
Could pay with tequila
For a proper written poem

But anybody that follows
The instructions of a textbook
Can write such a thing

The incentive for the patron
Shouldn’t be an academic attempt
But the voice and
Personal contact of
The poet himself

The ability to create
A completely unique
Field of energy
That flies out
From the mouth
Of the poet
Packaged inside words
Floating on air
That travel
To the human heart
The minds
Of listeners
And the circuitry
Of unknown
Radio stations

Not something
For the history books
Not something about the past
But for the present
For the future

Also
It doesn’t have to be
Good liquor
With nice girls
It can be
A tender kiss
Or a sensual manifestation
It can be a trip
To the movies
With port coming out
Of purses and pockets
Or playful tickles
On the darkness
Of the cinema
Or some coffee
Coffee is always good
Or chocolate
Chocolate is the best
For a better mood

MODEST MOUSE


You guys
Are now famous

I like your song
About a radio

I like it
Because at times
It sounds like
“Mexico”

I want to
Get another transceiver
One that has
Multi-bands
And is as
Portable as possible

One that is
Eco—friendly
One that gets you
Very High
On Frequencies

Perhaps
Since you
Are probably rich
You can help me
With this

THE FISHERMAN


I asked him
If he dared
Eat his catch
Since the waters
Are contaminated

He said that
Didn’t bother him
Because the fish
Do not live here

(The northwestern corner
Of Latin-American)

They swim down
From the north

They live
Up in La Jolla California

DAYAN TASSINARI RODRIGUEZ
CALIFORNIA DRIVERS LICENSE:
D41997118
CALIFORNIA LICENSE PLATE NUMBER:
7W08065


You looked like such
A good Italian boy
So I was nice to you
I even let you go
To Mexicali
Only God knows
What mayhem
You caused there

I didn’t call
The guys
With guns and radios
On you

And this is
How you thank me?
This is how you pay me?
Such dishonesty

Mediterranean lies
With olive oil
If I have to eat them
I might as well
Make them taste better

You looked
Like such a nice
Catholic boy
But your response
Is asking for love
Protestant style

PELIGRO
FIERROS
BATO
DEL AGUA


With such a sign on the fence
We could only stare at the
2 homeland security agents
Both of them were kneeling
Each next to a tire
And it looked like the sand
Was swallowing them
Along with their truck

On an Easter Sunday
Many years ago
Ironically it was during
During the cold war
Back when there was
No line on the sand
No rusted fence
No signs warning
Of a cat
Under water
Back then
When la migra jeeps
Got stuck on the sand
We could easily walk over
And help them

The border patrol agents
Would always smile
And say thank you
And they would always
Wave to us goodbye

But

They didn’t like it
If you told them
You wanted to see

Their judge
They would start cussing
And they would
Take out their
Handcuffs
And their bosses
Would pronounce
Words like
Sit down you
Son of a bitch

So all we could do
This time
Was to watch them
On their fours
On the ground
Because now
It would be dangerous
To walk next to them
They might
Get spooked and
Open fire

AN EXPLANATION


To Commissioner O’Connor
Of the San Diego Superior Court


The instilment
Of patriotic efforts
Created a
Public servant mirage
I value law and order
Because nature is
Also ruled by
The domain
Of water
The fish
In the oceans
Are rule
By aquatic regulations
The 7 seas
Also have
Governing bodies
The cattle on the countryside
Are under the care
Of their ranchers
Even swine have
Conquered the hearts
Of pet owners
I appeal to your understanding
Of my circumstances
Which are forever
Under the elements
You see
I am a
Working class driver
A reality baptized
With farm colors
And affected by
Urban misunderstandings
And the indifference
They foster
With this explanation
I beg your
Your pardon

FASTER THAN ALL STATE


We got aboard the vessel
On the way to the waterfalls
There was an open bar
And the boat stopped
So people could
Jump in the sea

There were no sharks
But I saw little fishes
That looked like rainbows

Some were wet
With tequila

When we arrived
We got in an even smaller boat
That took us to the shore

It turned out
The host
Was a friend of a friend
And soon enough we
Were riding horses
In the Mexican jungle

He was faster
Than All State
On issuing payment

And we were not thirsty
Because we had drank enough
We rode the horses
We were smoking
The Europeans laughed

FOR SALE


My first sale
The very beginning
Of my career as
A trader
Was an omen
Definitely a sign
I sold a black pistol
To a Mariachi

Those efforts
Brought more food

The soundtrack
Is important
John Lee Hooker
Caused the most attention

Somewhere I read
That Cesar Vallejo
Used to collect bottles
To make ends meet

George Foreman says
That you need to watch
Every frog skin

Actually
It’s kind fun
Because when
The stereo played
Besame Mucho
The customers
Began to approach
The merchandise
With a smile
Splattered on
On their faces

Then the harp
And the flute
Reeled them in
It was like fishing
Without water

POETRY & RAIN


The story made sense
When the following happened:

The water came from the south
The night got wet
With efforts to
To make the earth
Produce papers
For poets to write on

The leaves
On the trees
Are full of messages
Poetry always
Grows in a tree

Therefore rain
Is necessary for a poem
And the poem
Is always attracted
To the cloud
And the cloud
Is always above
A poet’s head

And water becomes ink
As it lands on
The skins of the world
It transforms itself
Into meaning

Rain helps thirst
It’s never good
To write thirsty

Then poetry
And rain
Are the same thing

AT THE MOVIES


Older man
With a blue
Potbelly
At the cinema

You should have
Stayed down
But you came up
Anyway

And when the
Senior citizen
Got murdered
(In the flick)
And he screamed
Those awful reverberations
Just before being
Thrown in the water

You got up from
Your seat
And walked down
The stairs
At a fast pace

It would have been better
To keep a distance

I would have
Been able to fool—around
With my lady friend

Perhaps you got
The wrong idea
I consider myself
A nice guy

BELLADONNA WEST—WARD 140’


You make me feel alright
Because you’re beautiful
And petite

You wear the most
Wonderful colors

Green
Yellow
Red
White

Your love
Makes me drowsy

I am dizzy for you
You make me
See blue

You come
In a small package
I am happy
With that reality

You are what my
Doctor ordered

GOODBYE RON COHN


Goodbye to your 1000 cuts store
Goodbye to your poisoning store
Goodbye to your laceration store

Goodbye to your abuse store
Goodbye to your store of lies
Goodbye to your contaminated store
Goodbye to your infected store

Goodbye to the rotten fish
You have on sale

Goodbye to the rats and cockroaches
That multiplied in your store

Goodbye to the moldy
Carne Asada
You camouflage with red marinade
For it to become
A hot seller

Goodbye to
The BUGS
In your store

Goodbye to the brave working class
You take advantage of
In those madhouses of yours
The ones you like to call
“Marketplace”

Goodbye to your conjures
Of stress

Goodbye to
Aching backs
Cut fingers
Carpel tunnels
Broken dreams
Slave wages
And all the zombies
You hold captive
In your stores

Poor souls
May God deliver them
From your addiction
To profits

CONTAMINATED RADIUS


What kind of poison
Would make
Produce employees
So violent
That they would
Aggressively scream
Sexual taunts
Attack coworkers
With their fists and
With simulated sex acts
To the point of baiting
Cops and paramedics?

NUCLEAR BABY


To Ron Cohn and all
those poisoned by what they eat


The biohazard waste man
Rides in the elevator

An open wound
Infecting the candy
From Russia
To England
From Russia
To America

“There’s a lot of people eating our candy”

( From the bins at
the bulk section of the store
[Henry’s Marketplace Chula Vista]
Where you can also
Find poppy seeds)

Ron Cohn said
As we both stood behind the case
Full of dead fish
Dead Meat
Dead Italian Pork

When it came time
To wash the blood off
The cutting tables
I would grab a transparent
Garbage bag
Cut a hole on the bottom
And use it as a rain suit

Because the water
Coming from the hose
Would splash meat & blood
All over the place

The only thing Ron would say

When he saw my wet
Improvised poncho was
“It’s raining”

You can’t work under those circumstances
For too long
Under those conditions
I was bound to get hurt
Soon I was under modified duty
Bagging candy

So I sat there
With a bag in one hand
And candy on the other one

Ron would stop by to stuff candy
In his mouth
I would look at him
And he would look at me and say:

“You get to do this when you
Own a store”

But I found a nuclear baby
Under a shopping cart
It appeared like it had been hit

The Radio is Active

So when you come
To the Marketplace
Thinking Henry’s is good for your life
Think twice and enter
Under you own risk

MARKET [PLACE] OF MASS DESTRUCTION



The smog has lifted
From Point Loma
I can see it
So very clear
All the way down
From Mexico

I can read it
On the newspapers
At the threshold
Of Ron Cohn’s
Chula Vista store

No wonder the fish
Are turning to mush
Inside the case
Cold and smelly pulp
But the sign said
Pacific Snapper

Is the bacteria
In seafood
A biological weapon?

When the engine overheats
It begins to vomit water
But the motor’s strong
Because it has
Thoughts of steel

The client made a comment
On the 3 levels of meat
“It starting to look like Vons”
He said
And I thought:
That’s what customer service
Is all about

The astute observation
Of the red Mercedes
Persuaded the judge
To rule in favor
Of Mr. Cohn’s
Ex—employee

Many are convinced

The best cars in the world
Are those
German Hondas

A (HENRY’S) MARKETPLACE
IN CHULA VISTA CALIFORNIA


To David Arias


What thoughts I have
Of your stores tonight
Ron Cohn
For I walked under your surveillance cameras
Self-conscious of the ingredients of
A Whole Foods meal
With Wild Oats
For dessert

In my working class distress
I see dreams on the windows
Of your refrigerators
Where you do not
Become richer
With the blood
Of third—world laborers

I saw you Ron Cohn!
Prosperous, lonely & fat
Spying on your customers
Conniving ways
To get more of their money

Avarice breeds danger
Therefore the police
The firefighters
The paramedics
The soldiers
The doctors
And the nurses
Walk very carefully
On your floors

Greed invites death
And the
Dance instructors
The husbands
And the wives
The handicap
The young & the old
The rich & the not so rich
All those beautiful
And innocent children
That have fallen victims
Of your insatiable
Quest for profits
Walk inside your walls
Under your roof
Next to your expired products
Trying not to get hit
By a store cart
Or slip on the
Imagery of health

Blood continues
To drip out
From the packages
Of dead meat
Staining your refrigerated shelves

The smell of decay
Continues to emanate
From the “fresh wild catch”
That is for sale
Inside your new case

Where are we going to go Ron
When the doors of your stores close?
I remember the poor baker
Repeating your words:
“Nothing last forever”
Every day has
A 9th hour

Mexico 2007

MEAT DEPARTMENT MANAGER
@
HENRYS MARKET PLACE
CHULA VISTA



Enrique
I know you
Are used to
Sinaloa style work

But you must understand
Too many accidents
Are not good
For business

Do you expect
Your subordinates
To work
Without fingers
Or hands?

I know you
Are feeding
Ron Cohn
With profits

But greed
Is a never ending addiction

Consider the words
Of the weeping judge
If it smells
Throw it away
All of it
The whole fish

ABULÓN


Al calamar
Lo empanizaron
Y lo dejaron frito

Como si se tratara
De milanesa

Los camarones
De la tienda
Vienen de Tailandia

¿Y las semillas
de amapola?

Los clientes
Quieren comer
Abulón grande

CABEZA DE ACERO


Hormigas
Cucarachas
Policías
Ambulancias
La tienda
Es un cuadrilátero

SEEDS OF FIRE


The international workers
Of agriculture
Defy the linoleum

Their seeds
Penetrate the floors
Of commerce

Shoppers become
Firewalkers

The rain
Makes them grow

There’s something
Fishy in the
Seafood case

More people prefer
Saint Peter’s Fish
Is nicely frozen
And it doesn’t
Have an odor
Of death

SAN VALENTÍN


You may be beatified
But I talked to
A dance instructor
That takes my
Breath away
When she stands
In front of me

And she’s not
Even dancing

I didn’t know
There was
Such pleasure
On the borders
Of final moments

MARY BETH ARKELL
HUMAN RESOURCES MANAGER
FOR HENRYS MARKETPLACE
CHULA VISTA


Mary Beth
What a beautiful name you posses

The needs of the store

Are not only illegal
But immoral

A need
Of addiction
For profits
At the expense
Of the blood
And severed limbs
Of workers
Is unlawful
And obscene

Oh Mary!
It was not
Always like this
There was a time
When a verbal agreement
Was enough

But suddenly

David Arias
(Store Manager)
&
Ron Cohn
(Store Owner)

Became sons of...

Hesitation

There was a time
When the manipulation
Of the hours
Did not take place

The day I received
Your letter
I was informed
The men’s urinal
Was overflowing

PLASTIC BAGS


Are choppers
And butchers
The same?

I liked the one
With blue
Tinted windows
Green bodywork
Trade instruments
To its left and right

At the marketplace
Everybody wants
The large product
But they don’t like
To purchase ice

I place the bags
On the scale
To do away with
The difference
And punch
The numbers
Written on
Each of them

THE STORES OF RON COHN


Roses are red
Violets are

Sometimes blue
Henrys Marketplace in
Chula Vista & Bonita
Are bad for you

Lakeside too

FLIGHT DECK CONTROL


This room
In the ship
Is as solemn
As an altar
A holy of holies
Nobody speaks

But
The captain
&
The navigator

Pass the Cohn
Back and forward
To one another

IN NATIONAL CITY CALIFORNIA
A COP WITH A FAMOUS NAME


Just like Dumas
The French writer
But with a motorcycle helmet
And weird looking
BMW bike
He said his name was
Greg Dumas
But I kept thinking
Of Craig’s list
And the motorcycles for sale
At that webpage

I guess I should thank him
For not
Having my car towed
Even though the last fellows
That did that
Did not faired that well

He said the PINK infraction
Was a warning
I promise I will not forget

I don’t understand
These apparitions
People with guns and badges
And surnames of famous writers
It’s definitely
Better than Hollywood
I appreciate them
For what they are

National City
Is a Cholo town
But this fellow Dumas
Looks more like
A summer camp preacher

When I pay the ticket
Will I get credit for him?

Just before we got pulled over
I was asked if the police
Are good or bad
And all I could answer is
Ones are good
Others are bad

When we drove away
I was asked if you were
The good kind
Or the bad kind
And there was a debate
I was voting for bad
The children were
Voting for good
And since we live in
A democracy
They won
You are good policeman

Those who are good
Are put to work
So my vote is in
I think you are
A hard worker and
You have a lot
To offer

You said Mayor Inzunza
Got voted out
Guess what?
You got voted in

I told Dumas he has
The last name
Of a famous writer
He said there was no relation
I looked at the PINK ticket
He wrote me
And told him
He wrote it very well

The navigator
You know who he is
You took his name
And age

He pointed at the burning cigarette
On the sidewalk
While you where talking
On your walky-talky
Saying Chula Vista
When I very clearly
Told you Mexico

He prophesized there was
Going to be a fire
I could see the smoke
Raising form the concrete
Dancing with the wind

FAMILY REUNION


The very first time
I saw a pig get killed
I was
4 or 5
Year old

There was a huge
Family reunion
It might have been
A weeding
Or a birthday party

I don’t recall
What I do remember
Was the disgusting pig
Laying on the dirt

It looked like
A lethargic giant

Next to the swine
There was a bonfire
Being started
The women were
Holding the
Bronze pots
Where the animal
Was going to be cooked

One of the grownups
Pull out a pistol
A shot it
What a horrible
Noise came forth
From the other
White meat

But it did not died
It’s skin was so
Thick that the
Bullet did not
Made it through

Then an old—timer
Pulled out his knife
And went to work

The screams stopped
Quickly and
The festivities continued

REQUEST


At the store
A customer asks
For pork
Without the spices

But butchers
Like to
Sell them
With the casings
They come
In links

LAS VÍAS DEL TREN


Ding dong
Ding dong
Ding dong
Cantan las campanas
Destellos en rojo
Pasa un cholo
Manejando el trolley
Oprime el claxon

TORCIDO DE CHOCOLATE


The border agents
Are almost there

They are about
To kiss
The hands
Of efficiency

Today I was stopped
Questioned
Searched

Sent to secondary inspection
Searched & questioned again
And then released

And I still had time
To stop at the donut shop
To eat another delicious
Chocolate twist
Sugar tastes best
In the morning

BACKWARDS


Ron Cohn
You didn’t have to lie
You didn’t have
To say you are Catholic
It’s okay if you are Muslim
Or Jewish
Buddhist
Hindu
Or whatever
I wanted to help you anyway
I was actually
Starting to like you

I knew something
Was wrong when
I saw you wearing
Your sweater backwards
And as a friendly gesture
I let you know

Just like I let you know
About the bugs in
Your store

And since we are
On the subject
Of knowing
Your stores are also
Backwards

And no matter how
Much ice
You put on
The dead fish
They’re not going
To resurrect

You want me
To speak to your wife?

I thought
Since you are now wearing trousers
(green ones)
You are the man
To talk to
Are you?

And even though
I am living below
The poverty level
With the wages
You are paying me
I still can’t help
And tell you
Not to change
The color of
Your shirt
More than once a day

You might start
To look like food

I tell you Ron
And the Lord is my witness
Your store is filled
With those who
Live by the following motto
Eat or Die!

STANDING RIB


¿Dónde aprendió?
I asked
¿Dónde aprendiste tú?
He replied
En mi casa
I said
Yo también
He responded
But he said it
With a
Patriarchal authority
I laughed
And then he said
Está fácil

The lady who ordered
The standing rib
Had a parish smile
When she saw the package
She said
Doesn’t it look beautiful?

Most of the time
The finish product
Has that feature
But on the bloody table
It looked alive to me

The Spanish speaking customer
Also ordered spicy pork
He wanted the fresh ones
(Pink ones)
Made a comment
About the old ones
(Darker ones)
I was going to tell him
The more seasoned they are
The better they taste
I kept quiet

INDISTINGUIBLES


El árbol
Que está por mi casa
Se sacude violentamente

Escucho el canto
De los pajaritos
Música de procreación

Uno de ellos
Sale disparado
Como una saeta

El halcón lo persigue

No era un canto de amor
Era un grito de guerra

A veces los sonidos
De los deseos
Y las batallas

Son indistinguibles

CUTTING DEAD FISH


Upper class customers
Similar to the ones
Whose pictures are
Being taken by the army
At Mexican checkpoints

They ask for
The skin to come off

Any knife
Will have to do
And I use
Hand armor
Only when provided

A dangerous profession
With a low wage

The store manager
With his leisure boat
And brand new house
A pick up truck
A sports utility vehicle
A Spanish last name
David Arias
But without the Spanish language
¿No habla español?
He doesn’t speak Sundays either
The day of the Lord
The 7th day
The day of the sun

BEHIND THE CASE


I sold
2 spicy
Pieces of swine

To a customer
With the profile
Of an Indian
On his chest

He was happy
He gave me a tip

He placed
The skin
Of a frog
On the counter

CBP AGENT ROMAN
AND OTHER AGENTS


Roman
You are a poet
I like the way
You pronounce the word
“Asshole”

With that accent
Of yours

How much does
The US government pays you
To insult Citizens?

Roman
Do you like your job?
Do you like your name?

I think it sounds
Kind of cool
Kind of like
Roman Meal

Roman
What happened
To the pledge to
The traveler?

Are you trying to
Synthesize it
With just
1 word?

Roman
If I could say
“Asshole”
Better than you can
May I have?
Your job?

By the way
In Spanish
It’s CULERO

Why can’t you be
Like Agent Deogracias
That guy is real nice
Very professional

Roman
What’s the matter
Was it too cold?
Too hot?

Agent Cervantez
What an inspiration
Sort of like
Don Quijote
But in a female version
She wrote about her name
On the
Hunter Orange Slip
She likes her name
Perhaps a little bit too much

Roman
Why don’t you like yours?

TIJUANA BUS


The trombone player
And the
Guitar player
Filled the bus
With melodic intentions

They sang:

“We are jamming
In the name of the Lord”

They did it
Very well
It was
Good enough
To dance

Nice kids
My trip
Became pleasant

COLD



Standing in line
Waiting to cross again
It’s like being
On the field
But without a rifle

It’s cold
Like it is
In the mountains

The game here
Is different
It’s still a matter
Of patience
Waiting for

The right moment

For a good harvest
For the beloved family

Instead of knives
And cartridges
We have notebooks
Pens and books
But we can also read:

Faces
Eyes
Movements
Minds

Our backpacks
Carry our
Different personalities
Useful identities
Of border crossers

ENCRYPTION


At the radio station
The poet
Sitting next to me
Opened her notebook
And began to read
The most beautiful poem

Her voice
Traveled through
The air

I marveled at
The way she deciphered
So quickly
Her handwriting

When I open
My notebook
Sometimes I have
To guess at what
I have written

ANOTHER CUSTOMER CRACKS
AT RON COHN’S STORE


The lady with the
Red white and blue badge
Used the bagged chickens
As cannonballs

Consumer rage
The allegation
False advertisement

She cursed the building
Launching from her shopping cart
Retail grenades
In the 4 directions of greed

Even the butcher
Was frightened

It was here she met insanity
This place is
A mind criminal

Mr. Cohn likes to see smiles
But that poor lady
Was not smiling

The little boy
Who got hurt
In your marketplace
Was not smiling
He was crying

His tears watered
The seeds of dignity
The tree of freedom
The cries of the poor
The suffering of the exploited

The police officers
Standing next to the case
Are not smiling either
They see inside your store
With moon eyes

Ron
You said you like to see me smile
This I can tell you
It’s a water smile
A rain smile

GLOBAL WARMING


“It looks great but you should put some ice in the case”
Ron Cohn giving instructions to the head butcher.



All the cases in the world
Are melting the icebergs
On the poles of the planet

It’s because of polluters
Trying to bring back to life
(Dead fish)
Something that is already rotten

The left hand guitar player said:
“Is okay to eat fish because
They don’t have any feelings”

House wives
Ask for antibacterial soap
Their hands bloodied
From handling the product
(Dead Meat)
That might transfer the madness
From a cow
To a human being

The vegetarians say
“Meat is murder”

The experts say that
The warming of the planet
Will increase
Even the Jewish mystics
Have prophesied
That the world will end
With fire

ORGANIC DEATH
HENRYS MARKETPLACE
CHULA VISTA


A new year of work
Pushing Ron Cohn’s
Cadavers on dirty carts

Is blood as usual
My joint does not hurt
Yet it feels tight
In a bizarre way

I am blissful to see
The foundations
Being built with
Straight lines

It was cold in the freezer
Death is cold
Morgues are cold
I work amongst the dead

Dead fish
Dead meat
Dead buyers
Dead sellers

Hope never died
That beautiful girl
Survived because

The fire in the pupils
Of the sun—eyed people
Is better than
And electric blanket