Poem to be Read to Telemarketers

I'm not interested in that,
but would you mind if I
read a poem to you?

It's a first draft so you’ll
understand if it's rough
around the edges.

As long as I have you,
would you be interested in
buying one of my

poetry collections?
Your voice reminds me
of the moon.

Toe Eyes

We dine at Toe Eyes restaurant
at the Singer compound.

Everything is pre-planned.
The salad, the single mushrooms.

The fact that we can pay using our phones
even though we were handed the

local currency prior to stopping in.
We don’t have avocados says Ella.

She is the proprietor and has been
planning this for weeks.

The specialty is Cotton Candy Pizza
alarmingly, served with mushrooms.

We are offered veggie bacon and then
the restaurant is abandoned for

the drawing station. She draws a butterfly
and then everyone agrees next should be

a baby butterfly. Addie gets to sign her
name and Ella asks what about the ‘aunt’ part.

I’m not sure who has adopted who here
but both of them are on board.

No one knows what happened to the ears on
Ella’s doll. No one really needs to know.



From the forthcoming book “The Low Country Shvitz” (2023 / Ain’t Got No Press)

The Olympics Wake Me Up This Morning

The Olympics wake me up this morning
They came to my hotel room and
did gymnastics on the bed.

I don’t know who gave them a key.
I recognized the announcer’s voice
from when he was on the TV.

It was a thrill, to say the least.
Tickets are usually so hard to get.
Addie heard and rushed in.

She apologized for the commotion
(as if the Olympics are her fault.)
Jude stayed in the other room

clearing his throat. It was a little
early for me as I usually don’t
have the Olympics over before coffee.

(And they didn’t want any)
So I faced them towards the window
and went to take a shower.



From the book “I Am Not Writing a Book of Poems in Hawaii” (August 2022 / Ain’t Got No Press)

It May Rain

Addie says there is a fifty percent chance
it will rain every day of our vacation.

That’s right, it’s a vacation, so I hope you
appreciate that I’m doing all the work

of writing this book while on vacation.
I’m writing it for you. Speaking of you

I hope it’s not raining where you are.
Unless you like the rain, in which case

I hope it’s raining as much as you want it to.
As for me, although I understand the

southwest is running out of water
which is why we decided to let the lawn go

here in the southwest, where I am writing
this book, even before the vacation starts

because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
I think I lost track of where that last sentence

was going. I hope to take time away from
writing things down, to lose track of things.

Anyway, I prefer it not to rain, but we’ll
pack umbrellas just in case.



From the forthcoming book “The Low Country Shvitz” (2023 / Ain’t Got No Press)

For Sunflowers

Once I stood in a field of sunflowers
outside of Fargo, North Dakota.

I’d always dreamed of doing this
but sunflower fields are so hard to come by

in Los Angeles, so outside of Fargo,
North Dakota, it had to be.

I’d say it was worth it. I’d say, at the time,
it was the best day of my life.

Sure, there have been noteworthy highlights
since then, but foresight means nothing

when you’re standing in a field of sunflowers.
All there is is them and you and, if you’re lucky

someone taking the picture so you can prove
even just to yourself, that it happened.

Sunflowers may be the boldest of flowers
and, if you let them, they’ll grow taller

than all of your relatives combined.
I wouldn’t hold that over them (figuratively)

but you’ll know it’s true. The yellow petals
like a million suns stretching out over

the entire midwest. The huge dark centers
like eyes beckoning to the bees to

keep this whole thing going.
Another time I planted a single sunflower

in my front yard. It grow then dropped its seeds
and soon enough a forest of them showed up.

I stood in the middle in yet another one of
the best days of my life.

It made me forget all about the time I planted them
in front of my cabin at summer camp and

eventually bunnies came and ate all the sprouts.
Who could blame them?

That’s what I’d do, if I was a bunny or any mammal
and those big beautiful things came along.