30 days pt 2 week 3

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july 26th-aug1st.2008


it became
broken down like syllables
could the writing on walls
be any clearer?
wipe off the glasses,
baby girl,
you saw the faces
banded together
peering in from windows
to watch as you slept
a question mark
curled around a shadow
ghosts make for strange bedfellows
and leave very little
to hold on to.


kissing fists and
bared teeth behind
hungry lips
they fight like wolves
strangling breath
trapped in throats
asphyxiation is so
slap of fingers against flesh
red outline of palm
against a milky canvas
evidence of their passion
worn like battle scars on the skin
drink it all in
insatiable and ravenous
bodies twisting
against the tension
wound up tight and
ready to ignite
fireworks blooming under fingertips
their union is


like placeholders
carry the
multiplied by any number
is still itself
when bullshit equations
just dont add up
divide the time
into boxes
that separate the real
from answers
that are nothing more than


i shall speak to you of dreams
promises wrapped in bullet proof houses
the sacred sanctity of my voice
turned the steady blinking of the lighthouse
a beacon
through the storms that twist
and turn
let me guide you home
when the night is long and
stars have hidden their faces
i will come to you
arms outstretched and
for you to take my hand


i am houston
and you have become atlanta
but shortly after midnight
on Sunday
we are new orleans
once again
i feel you
like the mighty mississippi
as we recreate
sunday jazz
in jackson square
within the humidity
of this place

twist away the sterile walls
and replace them with history
streets filled with stories
i walk down yours
awaken the sleeping pulse
of a city
that rests deep within my bones
you are primitive
and i am remembering
what it feels like
to be alive


we have returned home
distance and time
erased and replaced
by laughter
forkfuls of food
and margaritas
the size of our heads

we will never be confined
by the boundaries
of time and space
our bond, unbreakable
for we have broken bread
over broken hearts
and break downs
a thousand times before

and shit like that
forges bonds
that will never be challenged


chameleon sitting
at the corner of the bar
when you met me
you were
sean, and a professor
at the nearby university
to my friend you were
Patrick, a real estate developer
and to yet another, Arthur,
the owner of a hotel.

but bartenders always pour the truth
straight up like i take my vodka
and as glasses get filled
you become Tony
the drunk,
known by all for a good story
and very little else.


1,000 educators pouring out like ants
from the convention center
in search of
the dirtiest martinis
the largest margaritas
and anything else to drown out
our sense of
civic responsibility

i watch us
drunk and stumbling
pressed up against walls
into chairs
and eventually
into each other
cant help but laugh
at the fact that we
are responsible
for shaping the future of america


tonights discussion
was centered on
the teaching of empathy
and it took every last bit
of decorum
to keep me from
reaching across the table
and snatching out your tongue
with my fork
you spoke of how you
removed the desks
kept the AC off
to teach our babies
what its like to
'go to school in Africa'

take the blinders off, son
have you ever
sat on the threadbare pillows
that serve as furniture
in Yvonne's house
bought Daniel a booklight
and a constant supply of batteries
so he can do his homework
when the electricity is out
have you
smuggled out all the extra pizza
prioritizing the recipients
by how many
hungry siblings waited at home

i thought not
you're preaching to the wrong audience,
so please dont be offended
when i ask
if you
keep your electricity off at home
pull together
cafeteria leftovers
for your nightly meal
and choose the floor over the bed
because you'd rather not share
with three younger brothers
just so, you know,
you can see what its like to
'go home in the fifth ward'


the shelf life
of second choices
is much shorter than
one would expect.

watch your step
the expiration date
is growing nearer.


a haiku for san antonio de valero

streets merging the times
mezclado, like her people
living history


in the darkness of the crowded floor
strong hands seek out my waist
his rhythm
becoming the answer
to every question my body poses
mental music slows our movements
as the room begins to spin
entranced by the romance
of his arms
tucked under mine
back pressed into chest
head reclined on shoulder
we adopt the fluidity of water
become the ebb and flow of tides
lapping at sands
of the island we have created
floating within the sweaty sea
of faceless bodies in motion

power shifts through hands
like grains of sands
through the upturned glass of time
contested by blood and scars
and flags that pay homage
to far off lands

where to draw the lines
that separate brothers from families
when to change the name
to words unpronounceable in mother tongues
when can sons
look in the mirror
and see home
rather than stories translated
so many times
the truth has lost its meaning


i love you
for all the wrong reasons
and just as many of the right ones
for everything you hate of yourself
and all the little things you accept

i hug all your imperfections
to my chest
kiss them as if they were
my children
because even when you're ugly
i find you beautiful
and when you're crazy
you still manage to bring me peace
dont know what you have hidden in your fingers
that turns all you touch to gold
but im enjoying getting richer
with every second of your presence


i write lists
to keep me sane
compartmentalize thoughts into
manageable chunks
lists in notebooks
on the back of reciepts
torn napkins and
the backs of my hands
i type lists
into cell phones
and computers
send myself emails
of lists to remind me
i write in list poems and
think in bullet points
but never take the time
to check things off


if i were the ancient mariner
you would be my albatross
clinging tightly to a neck
that has no time for such jewels

cant help but pity you
in your brokeness
a poor excuse for a man
whose wings have long since
been clipped

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