Wednesday, November 30, 2016



You don’t have horns, much
Less halos on your empty head.
Perhaps your academic whoring
Has sucked soul, lit a torch.


Shame those fat legs can’t stand
Up to your Department Chair or Dean—
Pretend to care, consult Tarot cards
That would not move even one racist hair.


Married a black woman to build
Your book shelves and street “kred.”
Disposed of her when you got tenure,
Left her in penury for a new white wife.

Friday, November 11, 2016

The case for reparations for giving us Trump

For all the emboldened racist abuse
For all the hate in your eyes murders
For all the pulling off of hijabs
For all the spitting on faces
For all the screaming to go home
For all the stabbing from the front
For all the stabbing from the back
For all the stone throwing
For all the throwing shit on our houses
For all the cutting off in traffic to yell at us
For all the smearing of dog shit on our children
For all the nooses hung on our lawns
For all the nazi graffiti
For all the false arrests
For all the hand written notes saying get the fuck out
For all the Sunday silence while all this happened
For all the glee to be able to lynch again
For all the black lists again
For all the removal of health insurance
For all the laughing in our faces as we go hungry
For all the jobs taken away
For all the dignity taken away

You will pay when you are no longer in power!

Wednesday, November 09, 2016

Glad you made
it to this maroon
day Ms. Maureen 

Those wasp footsteps
on your skin
behind you

in the dark 
with Melania ink
is pure black

bird you know 
unsafe, heart beat
hurry suck

you like a flame
sucks a witch before
it engulfs her soul!

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Carbo Poetry Pillows. 16in x 11in. "I was given a God whose invisible thread is sewn to my soul." from Land of the Morning in El Grupo McDonald's. Pastel fabric paint on cotton/linen fabric. Signed, $150. Email for details ( Thanks.
Interview at NPR

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Thursday, October 04, 2012



How could you come home with such aplomb,

with another man’s consonance, his sperm
on your breath—then kiss me with female rhymes
to prove the linguist that you really are?
A gentleman is silent about tongue worm

indiscretions, tolerates the discomfort.
Some metaphors are meant to remain secret
in a marriage. Oh, you didn’t want to wound,
or give me cause for leaving you. No spoilsport

role for you in this quatrain. Twaddle
all you want about your revisions. Remember
when you insisted I re-enact your favorite scene
in Sex and the City? Carrie Bradshaw, full of bauble,

comes to Aidan after confessing an unforgettable fuck
with Mr. Big, repeating “You have to forgive me! You have
to forgive me!" At the bottom of that New York stoop
Carrie sulked so small, so superfluous, so stuck.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012



He could not pretend extreme unction
walking his hardwood floors--
castanets ripping tack-ka-tack-ka-tack,
pounding duende down to diminutive.

He refused the safron colored salve
offered by the provincial priest. "Tigaon" he said,
or was it "Tawi Tawi," where he met
the mahogany head on. Impacto talaga!