Three Poems from Volume 7 – ‘Unconscious’



i’ve driven down this road before

the familiar roll of the land

out into the western night

is my cradle

the uncoiled layer of asphalt

warm and silent and never ending

hauling in beneath me

and falling away behind

is my lifeline

the dreams that come and go

the memories that rise

then vanish once again

carry for me the promise

of salvation





four blocks down, four blocks back

took a walk to the drugstore

passed by the broke-down house

of a man named itchy stover

crossed over where the judge used to live

and looked beyond the riverbank

to the scattered jacales on the outskirts

one in particular, farthest one out

her fire still burns from long ago

en la casa de la paz

in the town of jolon





he fell in step alongside me

and was already in conversation

part-way through a story of a boy

who he said i looked like

he spoke only in Spanish

and never looked at me directly

his jacket didn’t fit right

and he limped badly

once again,

like all the other times

i told him i knew the boy

and i knew what he was

“en español por favor”
















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