One Look in My Eyes

Sipping sweet, orange sherry
Under a full moon
On a boat, in the rain
He strums his guitar playing Neil Young
His old man, the British reverend
Looks at him, looks down
At his shoes

A diamond ring and polished nails
No music but the shore
Telling you it won’t go away
Without a key

There is a woman
Crucified to the bow
Of this boat
The tradewinds blowing
Through her long, black hair

She is alone
With the waves
From the shore
That won’t let
Her forget
She is there

Ruby red gems, and lips
Tomatoes and peppers
Spicy and hot
Tequila and beer
With salt spray and

Rays of moonlight
Stripe the ocean
The mountain
Is blue, purple and grey

Everyone is tired
And drifting
In an orange meditation
Sailing on the Caribbean Sea
Watching God
Watching me
Let this moment, this beauty
Stay with me
Stay with me

Boat (2)




El Poder Hace Más Difícil Que Mientas

Tomar una taza de chocolate con queso
En una isla alejada de la costa española
Hace que respire nuevos aires
Que respire nuevos aires

El poder de la soledad
Es grande y va más allá de la comprensión
Es como un arma
Un arma pacificadora

Seré el primero en darle la bienvenida al sol de España
Ya que se asoma entre mi amor y mi odio
Ese amor y ese odio
Que me hizo jurar que jamás pecaría

Lo único en lo que siempre creí
Se arrastra desde abajo de esta calle
Y tú los verás también
A menos que te asusten…

Pero si se los permites, tu búsqueda
Será casi sin esfuerzo
Será con un extraño
Todos seremos removidos de una manera u otra

To read this poem in English, visit:

The Fireman with the Melted Ear


I met him in a room full of hundreds of people
On New Year’s Eve in San Francisco
He said he felt like he had known me his whole life
He told me how he became a fireman
And how much he made a year
And how he melted his left ear off
In a fire one Monday, in March

One night we went to his house
On Magellan Lane
And we ate persimmons and white chocolate
As we sipped 7&7s
His house looked unlived in
He asked me to conduct a séance.
I asked him who he was trying to reach
And he said

He thought I was a witch
Trying to bring him to the dark side
His heart, so burned, so consumed
From the flames of his life

He paraded me through
The fire station
And wanted to fuck
In the paramedics truck
Where all the dead bodies ride
Because he wanted to feel alive.
He asked me if I could raise the dead
But I said “No.”
I wasn’t a witch
Only a haunted ghost

He couldn’t hear his voice
He couldn’t hear his thoughts
He couldn’t feel his soul

Persimmons, white chocolate and 7&7s
He called me a witch
He wanted me to bring him back to life.
But I couldn’t.
And I thought, for a moment, I might be dead too

The Power Makes It More Difficult to Lie

Having a cup of chocolate with bread and cheese
On an island off the coast of Spain
I’m breathing like new bellows,
Breathing like new bellows

The power of solitude
Is great and beyond understanding
It’s like a weapon,
A pacifying weapon

I’ll be the first to praise this Spanish sun
As it lifts me through my love and anger
That love and anger,
That made me swear I would never be your sinner

Everything that I ever believed
Crawls from underneath this street
And you will see them too,
Unless they frighten you…

But if you let it, your search
Will be relatively effortless
That one you stand in with a stranger
We’ve all been removed in one way or another

Photo: solitude by serhatdemiroglu