Poems by Paco

[for Chinese New Year in February 2000]:

THE ONE/EIGHTH MOON

A DRAGONS TAIL SO LIKE A SCYTHES BLADE
HAS CUT A SWATHE THROUGH THE FIELDS OF
MIDNIGHT STARS.

AND MUST HAVE WORKED ALL NIGHT, EVERY MINUTE
I WAS SLEEPING, DREAMING OF GROUNDS, PLOTS &
SCHEMES TO REBUILD THAT PERFECT MACHINE;
THE WELL RESTED BODY.

THERE'S TERROR IN THE STILL DARK MORNING SKY
BUT, I MUST ADMIT TO FLAT ADMIRATION
HIS DILIGENCE!, HIS CUNNING!
LEAVING JUST ONE BRIGHT STAR NEAR THE CRESCENTS'
SOUTHERN TIP.

THE STARLIGHT, THE THORN OF LUNA;
GORGEOUS AGAINST A BLUE/BLACK BACKDROP...

CARE NOTHING! FOR US
OCCASIONAL LOVERS
APPLAUDING MORNING AUDIENCE.

I LOOK AND FEEL / CARE NOT
I DO NOT DESPAIR / I'M GROWING

THEY ARE RAPT REFLECTORS
THEY ARE IMPRISONED
THEY WAIT. THEY MUST.

FOR THE ARRIVAL
FOR THE SO CALLED "RISE"
OF BIG DADDY! SOL
SOL ES VIDA!

RESOLUTIONS

   In the year 2000 I'm gonna try to forget,all the things I want to say.In this new millennium I'm gonna remember,that I,m wating for silence to point the way. In the aftermath of fizzled fear-OH! Y2K!! I'm gonna take a hint and try and live accordingly.

[from January 19, 2000, workshop:]

he sat in a wheelchair
he was my uncle
my favorite as
many children have

a wheelchair in Denver Colo.
he sat-for about five years
drank some smoked some
only rarely spoke

then death claimed him
just after the remainder
of his 18 brothers & sisters
pilgramaged to say farewell

i'm writing this now
because of his......
smell-it's mystery!!
back in 1963,

he came west by rail
i mean, box car
yep! he hobo'd
Denver to Oakland

stayed for the summer
then drifted away
i too young and careless
to keep track of dates

he left an old suitcase
with a few old clothes
under the stairs
in our basement

i'd put his sweater
close to my face; inhale
see his face,feel his warm
self gainst my shoulders & head

he was a good man
from what i'm told
his familias favorite, but,
now my understanding says

older brothers,wine,wanderlust
that(Bryton)Denver barrio too
close to the main rail line
sealed mi tio Manuals',fate.

* * * *

[from August, 1999, workshop:]

lil Kiko

All night i could not sleep
the mourning not yet broken
5 long months of not trying
the sudden, merciless, intervention

i bend forward from tears falling
all the loss the forward dream
uncalled unwanted unspoken
he drifted away under a wave
i could not reach

into the ocean of the sunset
weary of sleeping he'll arrive
let him rest for he struggled for breath
his final attempt to save his life
ended in his death.

* * * *

Hallu sin nation

formulas reassure
can be figured refigured
measured
oh this earth
filled with troubles
a smoke filled bubble
in a picture in a magazine
so distant we are mighty
our boys our sons husbands
fathers can now come home
just have mopping up left
to do.
the formula for pain anguish
goes uninvented what do
we really know!

* * * *

Man and boy i filled this
ground always kept my head
expectant but hung it down
it down to watch whats passing

the ploughs run so deep and easy
mule doesn't even gasp
an aroma of soul or bones
from lives well lived forgotten
history put to rest

i've plowed and worked near
worked that mule to death
my shoulders burn raw my hand
formed into claws i can't unbend
them poor mule bout too wrung
to drink. i have to think awhile
the seasons rolling backwards
never, seen an august so deeply
obstinant   
No dew No drops Lean crop

* * * *

[from July 21, 1999:]

All my cats were sleeping
in their favorite spots
a chair my bed a blanket
on the floor asleep
though I waken from something
eyes search out the clock
3:00 AM straight-up oh
man! I use the bathroom
come back all’s well i think
i settle in bed again hear peeps
peep peep there’s a half dead
bird in my closet barely
clinging to life i decide because of horror
his times over put him in
a Lucky’s bag and squeeze
till he breathes no more. Now
All the feathered songs finished.