Thursday, June 25, 2009


You are sweet
you are caring
your hands are soft
when you bathe me
dad loves you very much
you are my mother

I love sports
I broke my ankle
I want you to read to me
I do not like
when you argue with dad
you are my mother

I have two daughters
I have four grandaughters
I am happy
I miss you
I have always missed you
you are my mother

I did not want you to die
so young
I was only seven
I needed you
to see me grow
you are my mother

Wednesday, June 17, 2009


My problem is
everyone mistakes me
for an onion
not a sapient
old dead poet

Why can't I be mistaken
for for a trumpet swan
dancing in the mist
or a bellydancer
having the best hand
at the poker table?

I know I barked
like a dog
devoured bones
played tether ball
and drapeed my leg
around fire hydrants

But if you check
my bibliography
you will find
I once hit
like Joltin Joe
played the horn
like Loui
like Astaire
like Hank
like Pollock
wrote like

A human being
growing in the garden
as an onion

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Historical Figure

A revolutionary poet

to free Cuba from the Spanish

cultivating a white rose

symbolizing innocence and vulnerability

offering love

to both friend and foe

everyone being equal.

Should not this be normal?

the way it should always be




a basic foundation for life.

It seems strange

this desire to escape

from oppression and


is called revolutionary.

Jose Marti


in the war

for Cuban independence

a revolutionary

a great poet.

Opposite Sides of Bench

Sitting on a bench in Havana

drinking rum

we talked about poetry

he read cultivating a white rose

by Jose Marti

I read swamp king

by Sid Marty

Marti writes about

light green and flaming red

Marty writes about

wild roses and grizzlies

I like beat poets

the harmonization of opposites

he liked opposites also

revolutions and love

we both read Hemmingway

for whom the bell tolls


on fishing

agreeing that

baseball cuban style is romantic

football american style the opposite

it seemed we were opposites in many ways

but we attracted kindred spirits

bonding over poetry

showing growth and decline

are not opposites

and opposite forces obey

a common destiny

over a bottle of rum