Monthly Archives: November 2019

Dairy: El Cajón de Grecia, October 2019

Below are three new poems for October, intended for the new book I’ve begun to work on.

My new book, The Book of Noah is available at Amazon – (Kindle, $4.99, paperback, $15.99) ; Apple Books, $4.95; Barnes & Noble, $4.95; Kobo, $4.95; and other booksellers. You can go to Smashwords and get it (and my other books) for “you set the price.” Please feel welcome to download The Book of Noah and my other books for free. Or, email me and I’ll send you the files in the format that suits you, ePub or MOBI. And please, leave a review at Amazon.

You can go to Smashwords and get it (and my other books) for “you set the price.” Please feel welcome to download The Book of Noah and my other books for free. Or, email me and I’ll send you the files in the format that suits you, ePub or MOBI. And please, leave a review at Amazon.

Zeke’s vision

In the dark of night
in dream, a horseman
astride a white stallion
in a grove of great trees
and behind him, others
mounts red, black and pale.
In a clearing, radiant
a figure seraphic
the rider strides forth
to the angel he speaks.

We horsemen were tasked
at the time of the prophets
by our Lord to survey
length and breadth of the Earth
finding then all at rest
the nations well faring
save for the Lord’s people
having Him before angered
evil acts and ways
rejecting repentance.
Upon hearing our brief
His angel implored mercy
and He, flashing jealous
of realms in their ease
became vexed for His own
having suffered sufficient
vowed Zion to restore.
We once again being sent
to canvass the Earth
now return to report
what we have witnessed.

Zeke bolts in his bed
his eyes opened wide
the vision fast fading.

Pale Rider

The girls all away
the boys at play
Sham’s, tequila
shot glasses set out
Lou, Guido
Tops, Monk
Pate, Picker
sprawled seats and sofas
Zeke in an armchair
Sham pours sips
bottles select
aroma of herb
perfuming the air.
Zeke slips into stupor
eyelids drop dim.
A rider lovely, regal
her mount, pale
to him silently speaks.

Long and far I ride
crossing seas and deserts
to the ancient land
at last in the distance
in shimmer of heat
a city teeming
millions of people.
Entering into the neighborhoods
houses of dried mud
roofs sheated with metal
streets of packed dirt
plastic buckets, all colors
set empty in queue
women and children
await stoic their turn
a hole bored in the ground.

There standing, a woman
worn beyond her years
two young children fold
deep into her skirts
at my approach.
“Don’t fear,” I say softly,
“I mean you no harm,”
sliding off of the saddle
to speak to the mother.
“Tell me how is it
that you, all these others
stand suffering hot sun
the young ones, too
not at home, not at school?”

“The pipes, no water.
We wait here our turn
at the trickle of moisture
seeping slow in the well.
Can’t leave for a minute
to eat, if were bread
to relieve ourselves even
losing place in the line.
The schools, the toilets
filthy, don’t flush
our homes, too
have to go on the ground.
Cholera took my husband
typhus my sisters
they, many others
dropping dead in the streets.
We complain, police come
our men taken away
the quiet ones beaten
the stubborn, tortured
made to eat their own shit.
I weep for my loved ones
my neighbors, my friends.”
Her head hanging, a tear
caresses her cheek.

The vision as vivid
as on the wide screen
fades fast as dawn light
awakes Zeke in his bed
not knowing how
he got there, or when.

Dawn dance

height of the season
sunrise quickens
slope of the ridge
gleaming in green
pandemonium of parakeets
over rush of river
swollen of rain

silent on smooth tiles
rhythm of breathing
four old men moving

finish their dance
each their own way
go about the day