Sunday, January 25, 2015


The Calling of the Crow in the morning

shattered within itself before it bleeds

a rattle with the memory of a seed

whose sound is the sound of awakening

empty against hollow  cacophony

steepening in the hollow its chamber

stored by rote memory in a quaver

Crow mimics the disembodied silence

through the conflict of soundless currents

and lives with its absence a sonic reed

The heart of a crow is a masterpiece.

As the voice that inherits a seedling

grows toward its heart as it penetrates

the drum of Crow’s heart is a labyrinth

To A CROW TO SAY Im' So Sorry

--Hate of Rate Omen of Humor

Sparkles from sounds in the voice can be heard.
There is an audible audience there.
Wire to wire Computer to Hack.
All to hear the wounding of a dead cat?
To imagine it was once alive then splat.
But what will I do with these visionums
They speak to my listening heart nothing
Weapons I know that these are my Letters

For something they were given me Offered.


Cuba, APostol, Isla, Sagrada.
Le mando mi verso recibenla
Con el mas alto saludo Elegua
Yemaya, guieme, Santa Seren.

Me acompana alabanzas y sed.
Busco su aparencia en palmas
Altas sus contestas no las capte
Las horas pasan se hacen ojas

Sinceramente son suyas mis letras
Llego mi ensayo al instituto
Los ideales abarcan saeta
Guardenmelo cerca del maestro

Cuba Apostol, Isla Sagrada
Le mando mi verse recibenla

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Butterfly Moon

-- buttefly

The butterfly soars over the mountain.
It travels through the air like a dragon.
For just as a dragon butterfly gains
The distance a universe gives to dawn.

Setting in the sun of a morning’s night,
rising it sets double over in time
in the needle of the eye of the spine
a place for certain existence , a prime.

Impossible to achieve by other means
nor can it be divided evenly
how it is defined is a mystery
no medium does its features redeem

Unquantified the Butterfly Returns
in the Vastness the Tail of the Moon

Friday, January 16, 2015



beauty at once is beauty forever
each in the other is its parallel
a moment is of eternal power
watch it make nothing of an hour near

its defiance of proportion is love
its submission to authority none
the flower of beauty is a poem
written without another thought to lose

but losing it is not lost to itself
as a rose is an afterthought foreclosed
the force of the stem’s sacred afterward’s
beauty at once is beauty by virtue

the petal that cascades and its rhythms
ancient precise original accent

Tuesday, January 13, 2015


For Mohammad We got Moses and Christ

There’s less to smile about--everyone--
You need us without war you’d be finished.
We arm there, we cause, we are your govs.
We steep in mass horror of violence,
J’taime, j’taime, you may be my master
I am, you just got the memo, silence!
By magna carte carpe diem and rogue love.
You will not regret it nor make mention.
You will come bringing ballots I purchase
With all of your hopes, dreams, and agonies.
Be guaranteed, human, you’re not to blame.
If under my rule you never learn Love.
Peace just forget it what’s that ever Proven?
La Libertad that’s best for Both of us.