Category: North America

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The News

Some imagined the Pope to come in colors of scarlet and pale frost candlelight mass and those sorts of hues not the rosy flushed flesh color, the color of not human deity and apparently it was a problem. Speaking of problem—

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Fresh Fish with Aloha!

  he called out, his knotted arm, knitted and purled, pumping a bucket the size of a table. I heard his low voice as I walked by him, say to his boy holding the rods that no one’s biting these days no one’s calling. I imagined him, then, standing on that barnacle-crusted pier, two rods in hand fishing for people. Scooping up chums who … Read More Fresh Fish with Aloha!

Courtyard Scene

  The sun plays on the fronds of the ferns, the ones which frame the courtyard in dappled glitters of sweet breeze through palm. Light dribbles lucidly across the cobblestones, a symphony of pigeon toes scuttling across stones with nails like safety pins. The barista has her fingers twisting through her hair and sex on the mind.

Seaside Avenue

  Once here, I let out a long breath ; the sound thuds dully against the window pane which streams in sunlight from a morning mister. The sound from my breath outweighs the sounds of diggers and cranes from the site on the other side of Seaside Avenue.

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Visions

  I keep my eyes open when I look at you. Your lips read: espresso for here, please & my fingertips tap against the plastic screen & I slide it to you with my eyes open. You criss-cross your skin, diagramming the name you’ve owned for years, & before you leave for the corner table, you reach deep into your pockets. I’ve met you before– … Read More Visions

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Aloha

  Consider the man in the aloha shirt talking to the Banyan tree. The diet Pepsi clutched in his hands holds him against the chipped picnic table and the spotty pigeons scatter when he flicks his toes.

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Autonomous Outsiders

  Praise be the autonomous who sit, crumped upright in a land of red Mountains. The ones who eat, food dripping from loose corners, at a table of stone, who lay, facedown on beds of Earth shards, listening hard for the rare sound

Skin Sounds

  Joy arrives soundless in a cool morning breeze; sunrise rattles through oak palm trees, cooing as she goes, swishing through the drooping leaves. Infinite moments heard by skin only.

Hawaiian Twilight

  Mustard-patched sweat on skin damp and oily, suddenly licked wide & clear with a salty breeze. The rose blooms tonight. For my part, I shall bear witness; there is nothing quite like the blooming of a rose.

Let There Be Ease

  Mahalo, my love for your blue eyes. For the soul eyes impressed on my own when I rest & let shoulders lie easy. Let all the palm trees be breezy. Let the waves on sand shores crest.

Yin & Yang

  Dance dark against the moonlight shadows; the dust will take you deeper– digging down to shaded levels of acrid denial tasting like dental floss. Dance light upon the meadow tresses; the sunbeam spotlights like braided rope. Fading numbness from the fingers out and suffice to say– the world takes hold.

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Moonlight Here-I-Am

  A little bit of moonlight here-I-am as breath surpasses finger count. That which is positive grows me; that which is negative grows me. In attempts to remain level, we remain level; manifesting intent.