leaf feather petal
kingfisher pomegranate
tanagers splash
kiskadees in the banana leaves
as hummingbirds honeysuckle
Atlantic Rainforest under cobblestones
and industrious ants of all sizes
a long way from cherry blossoms
Chinatown
in the year of the rooster
while crow pigeon sparrow
chase down Grant at Chestnut
past ladies, past dragons
through the oily coffee smoke
roasting beans
& dim sum steam
what call you from your northern garden?
storm petrel
in from the jersey shore
starling longing
a robin mouthful of chubby grubs
her breast so red her eggs so blue
a long way from the cormorants laughing
bobbing in the Pacific tide
oh to the singing, oh to the flying
this is the garden, this the garden
you in yours
and i in mine
and the play of the vines
crack
III
the sober well to do too the pat on the head
wise crack
as she adjusts her mother’s antique crackleware on the way out
to the ballet’s newest finest presentation of the Nutcracker
just more war cleaned up & sugary
the royal fuck in sashays and pliés: rape with cologne
Clara refigured screams “The white powder dream starts with sugar!” & ends
in a Serra Pelada pit or someone’s rolling eyes, itching, sweating at 127 A Precita Ave. waiting for Rose
sugar plum faries my ass
real faries hate sugar real faries
love moss
love water
love the smell of the pepper tree
love the bright sting of a fresh jalapeño
put flame to sugar to taste the bitterness it hides inside
that pat on the head
but roast a chile & it just gets juicier & sweet
i am a woman for God’s sake
crack down
firecracker crack back crack of dawn
fissure of morning light
in a poem or some such whachamajigit prose
concerned with the edge in language
a hemorrhage of memory?
IV
a hemorrhage
& in an instant
i remember
V
my godmother is saying “recuerdas”
VI
the girl in the boxing ring at King’s
her smile rose a mile high
trainer & boxer
the smile –Rose
odds against it but still worth the fight
VII
once the forgotten
smack dab in the middle
i am in a chicken shack
tack upon tack
los olvidados, but the urban version
no naked kids chasing chickens
in the hot sun in hungry waterless ponds
but here in the 1st world
two steps away from AFDC
a violent undercurrent
fueling everything
quickly turns to boredom
waiting for the medi-cal stickers
VIII
pack the knap sack with their morning snacks
notebook, lunch box
my son’s teacher shows me
his writing book—the spelling word he chose for the day
c-r-a-c-k
under which he drew a picture
of a stick being cracked in half
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