There areThree parts to any start. A Triptych. Trust me.  

I want my gentlemen taken care of, kids nonexistent, my money on the table and it’s black on first spin.

looking up at me with eyes like dogs
who’ve humped too many pillows
and now it’s time to pay the price

When a lover doesn't know your name

I could swim inside a seafoam green field. 
I could have cigarette breath again. 

He lies there, crumpled and ragged—
a pile of unwashed laundry.

[It began when I learned]

It began when I learned to sit                                       I began when I burned and sat
in my boredom, our poverty with                                in my

The world might 
not be here tomorrow,
but she still draws 
a perfect outline 
around her 
lips and eyes. 

Death is not a proper noun.

There were all these portraits of me hung on the walls and they would dance on the frames,
 the shadow people that spiritually strapped my body to the mattress.

Un día me iré sin decir adiós.

Snow misted, or so I remember
I was awake, but only partly
Somewhere beyond dreams
In my space between nightmares
Laying in the dark
And lying that things were still light
Outside, the city sat

There are two breeds of love in the world / but I forget what they are.

standing around in my underwear
in the kitchen Christmas Eve

journal entry #3

the birds ministered from tall pines

        our eyes were

sites of excavation effaced by inner winters

went blind

                  amid the gorge the

gargoyles
and sorries

See, I’m too stupid to write a poem. 
Remember when I said this, that afternoon by the lake 
in our purple & yellow short shorts,

Levi’s High

My moods as blue 
as these lake hues
Ass still looks hot in this
double denim though,
so fuck yous 

Swatting flies
On my thighs 
in the desert
Amor

Bouchon

Steak

Miming a poetic revenge mambo

That’s when she asked me if you were still part of our family.

I watched the Fassbinder film.. half in English, half in German..

 I fell in love at all of sixteen and don’t you say I wasn’t devoted.

My baby’s eyes were brown but you can tell he wishes they were blue

And I don’t see what it matters, but I can see it does

still, there was so much salt
in so many wounds

 life got stuck under the wheels and desire’s language smacked into cliché, death came as Chet Baker crooning love, almost blue

40 Year Milestone