or material  things that

can replace

your love

whether I have

borrowed time

or this time

around the only

love you can give

is heat from a hot plate

there is poison

in your tea

words in my

dreams

that speak

there are people

we like and

people we

love

in the distance

there is song

and in the past

a shack a rock

and a hard place

we eat we mirror

we dance and ride

choose food

to sustain on

back up

things public

and free

satisfy

rough

images

and the

color of

eyes

this life

I decree

billy goats

and the canyons

that await

heed your

sexual

greed

pose in the

aftermath

of a desert

night

rise

in guise

of sun

lit flight.

said at birth is

it’s a boy

or it’s a girl

why not

it’s Anna

or Samuel

everything

changed in

this world

when we started

worshiping

the Sun

the ego

and left

the Lunar

calendar

the soul

go.

the pigmentation of

mated doves

I keep compassion

a zoology clef

forgive nurture

protect the mural

industrial the painted

pain the fusion

of Frida Kahlo

and Diego Rivera

in their towers

muerte y flores

in the end

we are mammilian

in our power.

of calendars

and periodicals

of lovers

my little

green book

back just enough

to learn my 34 year

filmography

anthology

is my future

I have danced

with death

laid with the devil

collected bluff

and the treble of pebble

when the sun

comes out

I am simply

an organism

burnt blanched

bound.

my love

to go around

your story

is not mine

the disaster

and delight

of your DNA

the parts of your life

you have left out

are the parts

I have needed most

the devil in the details

the power of knowledge

the fallen trees

of skid row.

can be the greatest

prison or a temple

carved from rock

ancient high

on a mountain’s

altitude.

The body

can be a bloody

vessel transparent

winged drawn

free.

pool me

fish a bowl

while you stroll

I struggle

my trouble is

that I was

born smiling.

and the backs of receipts and

envelopes of bills long

since unpaid then

a writer writes

on walls and on

skin on palms

and finally a

writer writes

in her dreams.

and a dog

lovers and

songs

I have friends

and dance

fuel and

fog

I have triumph

and lists

sex and

conquests

I have light

and heat

fans and

land

I have dreams

and holidays

scars and

marks

I have a future

and a past

thirst and

mast.