Untitled (11/5/2002)
Latin guitarra,
cool injection of
noches solas, trivial self-pity.


I am simply clay in
buonas noches, quelling pariahs
of puritanistic wantoness.


I tremble,
tranquilidad melocoton, waiting for your
dieta del sexo.


The first night, ondulacion of
my thoughts on
the canals,
socks unadorned, sitting by my shoes.


I clung to the rail, singing to myself
secreto dulce, en mis pensamientos, repetidas veces.

Tie me up in these sentiments,
your cheek undusted by
mine, mi beso que se reclina sobre usted, un sofa de
cuero.


Venice Beach 1/5/2003
blind pool steps
that struggle bamboo
chimes
of an unloved
incense stick-
scent beach lust.


i'd like to thrust away from this
killing sung
by drum
circle-
not like-


Cold
o
i
n
i
n
g-r-i-n

Cold
o
i don't carexclamationothe right me
l
i
not like you do
g


All work (c) to Mary Parrish, 2003.