“another one,” I smack with my vowels
the balding head of the leprechaun of a bartender
the clown with his false smile and polished baritone
of friendliness, he pours me my Guinness;
he’s a… well, you know the type, a youngish fellow
who when no one’s looking turns away from the bar
and reads Spinoza’s “Ethics,” out of that naive belief
that there’s something philosophy can teach us,
or more likely, just to impress the glances of arts students
who come here Tuesdays for half-price drinks

I mull over the black coldness of the glass,
the shapely smell of french fries gurgles around
and for sure there is talking in our midst
but who would notice words;
the Heat have won (buzzer-beater), and the only man who cared
just went to the bathroom
and all is merry
it’s life to be lived
with no obligations to us, who live it
and a smattering of thinking, only allowed behind the bar


The criterion for rain in Miami breaks down

When streets sit cross legged lie in wait for it

To pass, like, the pharmacy at the corner where you buy your cigarettes

And toothpastes and blood-curdling devices of the sort

You nowhere else could obtain.

More than a heartbeat in the soaked asphalt and veins

Break out to the surface near the crossroads,

Where cars stop to take a deep breath

Of immeasurable distance ahead.

Stooped, glancing over your shoulder under the weight of your own

Unimportance, egalitarian rain sees you so.

Fearless fates bracketed in frozen soil,

Speech-hailed trees as tall as a morning chill

Entrapped encamped entombed without a stealthy steel

Of bullet, yet by death ordained in makeshift hospitals

Perturbed linear epic – stillborn, final forlorn

Before the skies swell with redcoat hide of wolves


Risen one by one as icicles and sequoias

Rhetoric commit to fire before the night

Weaves its portentous streams, for furtively they bring

A hoarded darkness tightly clung to your skin

Disperse, by pale bitter air in your mouth, remove the earth

From dreaming. Bliss, blisters, leaves and pinecones

Your shoulder fraught with them and muskets

Avails twisted companionship of blades


Throne overthrown, a fight evinced

Intrepid gloss on history

On which we step, a pulse, a beat

In wooden huts’ camaraderie

Unstable, trimmed, but greatness still