“Zulus from Canada,” “Little House on the Prairie,” “By Popular Demand,” and Other Poems
Zulus from Canada On the matter of Oscar Peterson, The jury is still out. He was the real McCoy, he was Radioactive. He was the Taj Mahal. He was…
“Celebs at the Beach,” “Peripheral Visions,” “Bride of the Sky,” and Other Poems
Celebs at the Beach I strain myself to get a better look, A good long look at what is promised To be the view of a lifetime. I’m not a stargazer; I…
“Multi-Cultural Awareness,” “The State of Maybe,” “Bumpkin in Overalls,” and “Tokyo Rose Lives”
Multi-Cultural Awareness In Japan, the Japanese write poems about Japan. There’s no mention of the universal. Japanese poets write Japanese poems…
“Heaven Help Us,” “No Longer Fit to Print,” “In Rehearsal,” and “French Revolution”
Heaven Help Us I tried on a kimono and danced all night in the summer parade. Problem is, costumes are not for me. I never wear robes and I’ve never…
“Mall of America,” “Literary Property,” “Where There’s Smoke,” and Other Poems
Mall of America In America, even the old are expected to work. No rest for the wicked. Even in retirement, one goes to bed exhausted. There’s no…
By the Bay, By the Bay, By the Beautiful Bay, Part 2
Rich drove fast. We were cruising on occasion at 95 MPH. He is a superb driver. Some people can do it. Some even like it. He loved to take the curves…
By the Bay, By the Bay, By the Beautiful Bay, Part 1
I lived on Potrero Hill not far from a grand Victorian owned by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. In a little closet I slept, rented from an activist who drank…
“Castles Made of Sand Are Called Sand Castles,” “Miss DeNiro’s Headdress,” “Bullet Points,” and “The Crime of Understanding”
Castles Made of Sand Are Called Sand Castles I am a rentboy living in a ramshackle apartment at the Champs Elysees Complex in downtown Dhahran in the…
“Spaghetti Dinner,” “Cincinnati,” “White Studies,” and Other Poems
Spaghetti Dinner I, too, only cook once a year. I, too, cook for friends and family. I, too, leave a mess for my wife. I, too, am hated. It’s not the…
“Maximum Madness,” “A Good Paddling,” “Dancing on Graves,” and Other Poems
Maximum Madness I was five and she was six She played the fiddle, I fooled around We hid beneath the floral covers People thought we’d become instant…
