At least three times a week, I leave work and walk two blocks over to the library. I go to write and if writing doesn’t happen, I hang out with and gently molest the books and dvd’s. Three good poems came out of my library visits the last few weeks. Like some expectant fisherman, I … Continue reading “The Security Guard”

On the way to the hospital, I walk past Mosswood Park and was compelled to visit the amphitheater. Speckled key lights of sun were spilled randomly along the ground. When was the last time I was here: the late 90’s men’s group meeting? I was quite fond of those Sundays when a bunch of male … Continue reading “The Empty Room”

I stood at the bus stop, the sky freshly blushing with day. I stood alone and traffic was light to non-existent. At the bus stop and to my left, there’s an apartment building with a small parking lot marked by a wood fence. While standing there, I could see just over the fence and briefly … Continue reading “Intersectionalities or This Morning In Missed Connections”

SPOILER: I don’t. They write me. I woke up in time to catch CBS Sunday Morning and the moment it was over, I clicked off the television, already annoyed by the Sunday morning crew newscast, and started getting myself dressed and my stuff together. Four notebooks, some print outs of articles and Other People’s Poetry … Continue reading “How Do You Write Poems?”

I stood on the train platform feeling desperately sad, anxious and lonesome. It was nearing 10pm and from where I stood, it would be a full 90 minute commute back to my door thanks to getting to my last connecting bus stop five minutes early. I’d felt like I wasted my time and evening. In … Continue reading “How Do You Want To Be Paid”

If you use a Yoruba chant to open a public event, welcoming the ancestors to join and be welcome in the proceedings, how do you close the ceremony and tell the ancestors, spirits– thanks for coming! shows over now, yawl can go back to the far reaches of heaven or wherever… I ask because a … Continue reading “The Spook By The Door (Who Wouldn’t Sit Still)”

The only time this week I could do it was last night. So after work I jumped on MUNI and rode out to Bayview Hunters Point. I felt sleepy; an unusual feeling this time of day, but since the new year I’ve been out every other night or so. Last week I did two poetry … Continue reading “The Best Hamburger I’ve Ever Had In My Life”

By mid-day Sunday, Taqueria San Jose was packed. The gorgeous restaurant feels air lifted from Mexico and is bigger than you’re currently imagining, with an outdoor fountain on the rarely used and kind of small brick patio. I ordered lunch and armed myself with chips and salsa. As I hit the door to leave, right … Continue reading “We (don’t) Need To Talk About Kevin”

At the last minute, she sent me a text cancelling her previously offered ride to the gallery. But I was still able to get a timely bus and train to Berkeley. Too timely, in fact. I arrived exactly on time and didn’t want to be exactly on time. These readings NEVER start on time. And … Continue reading “This Is About Time”

The reading finished before 9:30. I left the bookstore and crossed the street. At the bus stop on the bench was a woman, whom I know, who bought a book off me but an hour before, whose house I’ve visited, and whose name I could not recall. Even now, thinking of that night last week, … Continue reading “Who Gave You Permission”

I read as part of Litquake SF this weekend in the Mission, reading with the group Cave Canem. I went with Stewart, my friend and fellow CC member, who reached out and asked to join me when I went to the city. We made it to the gallery exactly on time, but first mistaking it … Continue reading “Wake Up Call At The Old Morgue”

I chose sleep over the blood moon last night and woke up to good news for a change. A poem I’d been tinkering with over the past few weeks surprised me by being accepted in a journal. I included a draft of it in a submission package a while back and its acceptance this morning … Continue reading “Grace Jones Live”

Only today did I realize the website Xanga saved my blog entries from 2007. I thought they were gone forever. I’m struggling to save them/upload them/ double check their worth. But since I haven’t posted in a while, I found this and decided to share it. From what I remember, this was me responding to … Continue reading “By Way Of Autobiography… I’ll leave this 2007 entry right here”

a tall skinny older white dude stands with a short Mexican woman at the corner waiting for the light. he is talking at her aggressively and close. he loudly grabs her arm. her face is a patient megaphone. you’d think this was an argument. a fight. perhaps. but what if i told you the man … Continue reading “The Thousand Yard Stare Of Love”

Off and on through the years I’ve kept a pen pal of some kind. All women. The first was a neighboring girl I’d gone to elementary school with who’d gone off to college in Georgia. Then my birth mother after she’d left California and relocated to Louisiana and was open to writing. Then there was … Continue reading “An Open Letter”

1) The History of Spaghetti Westerns, i.e.: a. Franco Nero b. Claudia Carinale c. Klaus Kinski d. Sergio Corbucci e. The Great Silence f. Lemonade Joe

We’d gathered together for a poetry reading none of us wanted to attend. This was weeks ago, the same day a group of men and women gathered in a church for bible study and were murdered by someone from the community they invited in. However awful and angry all of us had been feeling from … Continue reading “How Do You Get Out Of This?”

Late weekend mornings at the bakery is all confusion. Meandering lines of smiling couples saddled with babies and loudly laughing daters. I usually feel as if I am in black and white while they move around me in color, as I’m always alone, ignored and silent. I rarely run into friends. Of late, my prayers … Continue reading “The Romantic Comedy”

The poetry reading Saturday night at the bookstore went well. However much I grumbled over being there on a Saturday night, the reading felt good and the poems were well received. The room was full of seniors, myself included; all men and women frosted by time. Their eyes I appreciated, especially the two older women … Continue reading “The Man With Two Dogs”

was staged at a hotel near Lake Merritt. I was not featured but was still motivated to leave the house since two of the features were people I knew and liked. The bus let me off a few blocks away and I happily strolled through a tree-lined neighborhood I always liked with its dense collection … Continue reading “The Reading I Went To Last Night”