i took
a picture of the moon
moments after we parted
to remember you
and the day
your incredibly red hair
shone back the sky's
magnificent colors
just after




path to nowhere

zen center
set amid sprawling
city of angels

buildings house souls
along the path to within
nothing could be
more perfect





it was one
of those days
when the clouds were
white puffy cotton candy

from one bizarre shape
to the next


there’s eleanor roosevelt
eating a cookie...


now it’s mickey mouse
riding a donkey...

no, wait!

it looks like muppets
playing softball
with god...





just beyond
the shadow of banks
and other big buildings
serenity awaits

of spirit

nestled in
a quiet corner
of a sprawling metropolis

signpost on a path

to peace

sit quietly
and it shall




washed up

he’s a
wanna be illuminati
driving around
in a beat up

takes a fast left
onto la brea
thinking about the time
he had lunch
with the mayor

 his ponytail flies
behind him in the wind
like the glory days
time so cruelly





i always thought
you had my back

that was a long time ago

before everything
turned black




it’s not that i think
god speaks to me

i think god speaks to everyone

it’s easier to listen
other voices
with more alluring tales
of wealth and glory

that tell us
what we want



misplaced anger

i punched
the refrigerator
although it had done
nothing wrong

in some small way
i think we both
felt better

at least
i did




helping hand

when you
dedicate yourself
to service

you are no longer annoyed
when someone needs your help

you are pleased to
spend your time helping

because that is
what you do




we’re all
potential suspects
and victims
on the

leery eyes leering
backpack to backpack
could this be
the day?

when we all
become famous
in the subway 



 pushing buttons

there are
so many ways
to look at a woman

she’s a giver of life
she'd make a hell of a wife
she’s a pure expression of yang
an umbrella against the rain

an infinitely complex
clitoris wrapper

or even a
clitoris rapper
if she
deftly drops
dope rhymes about
her magic pleasure button
phat beats





you should
let me get you off
with my finger
and my tongue
my teeth
my thumb
and then some

scratching all of your itches
touching you in places
you didn’t even
know existed

taking your soul
beyond resistance
unleashing explosions
of your very existence

your delicate pink lips
wrapped around my lips

my lips
wrapped around
your throbbing clitoris

every cell
every molecule
alive with the universe

my fingers are deep
up on your spot
you squirm and you bop
moaning “please don’t stop!”

then it’s my thumb
tickles your bum
your screams for god
tickle my eardrum

your fingers dig deep
into whatever they grasp
your toes curl
as you gasp gasp
g a s p

ethereal ecstasy

you catch
your breath
at last

lying in a pool of sweat
and spent glory

nobody moves

waves wash over
glistening naked bodies
the room creeps slowly back
into existence





hula hoop girl
i think i’m in love with hula hoop girl
although i’ve only seen her once
from a distance
she brought some hoops and a boom box
to a nice park near venice beach
where i was sitting
just before

i guess she's
somewhat famous

i heard passers-by greet her warmly:
"hey there hula hoop girl, how ya doin`?"
she’s not quite perfect
(sometimes the hoops betray her)
but she’s damn close
if hula hooping
became an olympic event
she’d probably train hard
make the team
maybe even
bring home the gold
she presses play
out booms funky music
she begins to hoop
i’ve always
had a healthy respect
for those who excel at things
i cannot do
she’s not simply good
she has
developed it
into an artform
swoosh swoosh swoosh
she brings it up
from her knees
to her waist
to her neck
left hand out
right hand out
then just the neck
subtle movement
the hoop drops
to her chest
swoosh swoosh swoosh
effortlessly down
to her hips

she sways
in perfect synchronicity
with a cylindrical extension
of her soul






seth's room