listen, I just ———

     I’m trying, so hard to 

remember how to feel, miguel

remember how to feel? Do you


—I swear to god, I swear

I swear I swear I swear

       no sadness such as yours


& the alcoholics, miguel

     when did you become—–

————–one of them, I


could only see his face,

   your father’s

coming in, not pale, no


    don’t believe in

                  machetes, shitty people

I just, miguel ———


   to understand,

the music, I know, makes it difficult

    every beautiful face,


–of course, floating, like smoke

     before you & yours

—did you know 

I was raised without enthography

independence is not to be fabled



       the drugs, the fucking



                   I knew a man

                   I loved a man

                      [who died, now]






—your father, aghast

 then, as I whispered

into the orange shirt

  of a weary cousin–

     "Oh,“ he said, holding up two fingers,

         "they’re both alcoholics” through his cigarette


—-And olga, on the corner


  & what seems to be a child

        actually an old, old women 

  slender, tan, teeny, I

couldn’t imagine, she

        strolling in the sunshine



the small man

   fire cracker tossed

      between his legs


cheap joke, mean joke

    holding his glass


They have a peculiar look

   the lost: stupid


   and just 




shriveled & mangy & brown, a breaching jaw jutting 

[off a cliff, a floundering]

    please, when I 

first saw you I thought you were beautiful


I know,

   this town

      it swallows


do not be one of them,








& the cop come to town,

    pays for our drinks

the handsome Iraqui, 




   the women, or

        the young, just

 ’‘I’m so thankful you’re beautiful’’





we were not always

     we are not always



your father left

  with a bottle of something clear

under his arm

  nothing, just

sound and gestulation 

                 to a stranger



Isamael told me

  (roaring motercycle,

     arms laced round,

        head bent

                just towards me

      as the color

         –houses, people–

              faded behind—)


“If I stay here, I 

    won’t progress”


         I do not 

             [ask you to]



oh, miguel


when I first saw you 

    I thought you were beautiful





when they sprung 

     from the tables as if

chicken feathers, toyed

  with air–spawning

machetes & shouts, we,

   arched our necks.



         the horror.

we [I] pushed into the bar, 

  threw the gates down, panic

      arose like a flower


          & you were jumping

—tell me what energy

             what cruelty


the bar tender, just

    another foolish, burly 



suddenly calming a child

    with a knife


their shoulders together,



the police late & only 

     breath before

motercycles tore

  tore, tore, tearing

across & beyond


—-do not tell me

   you will go with them)


Sing you a broken love song

    one not unlike

 the one you sung drunk, in the mountains

to/for nobody, everybody

    you clasped my hand, 'come’

on the bed, across

  the other, my cousin sleeping

 where I rose with elegance

    (oh, perhaps


& soothed her—

      upon my return, sense

  –or someone–

                 had taken you–



  today, a boy turned 18

you 19







                                            my god, only.


please, listen

      to the rivers

& the waters

            of your country, not

  the red earth, sand

        falling past

abandoned highways &

  honey-comb tombs—



       these colors,

  they are yours, bequethed



    your youth. —

[bequethed? I]


         am so

              unsure, only


I refuse to believe in shitty people

I refuse to believe in shitty people, I refuse to-

    & so I don’t



   as we ate fied chicken

from some boy with coffee-drop eyes and

 a sad smile (the taxi

driver, silent & listening…

    good night, have a nice night

       he turned the corner so fast)

            I thought of







          the others


“he’s crazy,” she said, but

     laughing, “he’s a good friend.”


         the crazies, on the street

  think of them

       as you dance

                     next to them

in the stupid, dizzying green light.