Uncategorized

Later, when your teeth gave up their roots
Handfuls of hair signaled the sickness
The cancer grew

Did you regret seeing that first flowering fire
The shadowless glare of that second sun
In purple, green, and white?

Or did you think to yourself on your final bed,
I looked Shiva in the eye
And lived (for a while)
To tell the tale

When he pulled himself up from the burning sand
Beneath palm branches, rum drink in hand
Nothing was ever quite the same
They say his body burned, but his heart remained
A phoenix in flip-flops – triumphant, tanned
A new world, a new man

Why fly back? he thought. Just to test my wings?
I’ll stay – conquistador, son of kings

The plants are taking it all
Back. Gray-black bricks are crumbling,
The roof is about to fall
In. Small monkeys are tumbling
From tall branches and tangled
Vines. My innocent living
Room — where my brother wrangled
The dog, where our frolicking
Ended sprawled out on the couch —
Now corrupted by salt ash.
Sometimes, a bobcat will crouch
By the kitchen door, where rash
Rabbits like to fornicate.

Only wind moves through the gate.

This blog isn’t getting used. In order to justify paying for a website, I’m going to have to start posting something, and I’m afraid that might be poetry. None of it is very good. If you subscribe to the RSS feed, you might want to stop that now. This is your advance warning. I’ve done everyone a favor by stopping the automatic import to Facebook.

Cheers.

I’ve got this problem. I don’t want people to think I’m a total fanboy. There are enough Harley guys with Harley jackets and Harley doo rags and Harley boots. I don’t need to be the Ducati version of that. Whatever it is.

But look at how most motorcycle helmets look:

And look at a Ducati helmet:

I mean, could you blame me for buying that? I need suggestions. I like simple stripes. Retro racing helmets are cool. Full-face is a must.