After Hours Into the wild late night parking lots Freeze at the 24-hour mark and hold your position Just near the turnpike outside the grocer Underneath the cabinet beside the spring onion mountain This street is unique to any other in the neighborhood Stray cats abandon their litter and stroll the sewers Water flows onto the sidewalk and drips down the gutters The stench is visible and the busker is blind. Alarms are amplified and distorted tires screech corners Night owls sleep on porches outside lofts maintaining steady balance The weird and rare are wandering and preaching in trench coats Yells echo in-between buildings and down alleyway graffiti Flames are burning in the shadows and the dance club glows The diner is quite and the seats are emptied in blood-red leather Laundry mat is spinning in a trance for three dollars an hour Detergent is extra but no one is providing or selling. Near the brick walls they offer kicks in high heels the connecting side supplies dreams for insomniacs Gas Station pumps are running dry until sunrise arrives The convoy trucks seem to only travel at night with imported cargo Payphones light up the dark spots like a holy angel with broken windows Posters, billboards and advertisements are ripped and peeled in inconvenient places Harmony Park is in the center and the play sets are dated and faded Swings blow back and forward with eerie sound effects grinding the metal Every street sign is a gravestone And the whole world is a stranger. Backward Birds The birds of the south refused to advance in a forward progression. They flew backward against the wind To the all-seeing eye, including the birds eye view this was a strange sight to behold Politically they knew what they were doing was right. It was because they were left wing and they couldn’t be swayed by the breeze. They remained in a flock and over time collected more recruits. The sky is an open market Soon these views became the norm with the landscape in reverse this was how it should have been When the carrier pigeons caught on deliveries had to be made the other way around It was confusing, but faster than bureau de poste. Time went on or fell slightly behind before we knew it “We” being the spectator Forward motions were stamped out And now it doesn’t come as a surprise Frame of Mind I told my friend that I admired his mind, he had a steady balance of vision and alcoholism but his sides never tipped I suggested that one day we should frame his mind and to put it in plain view. People could pay the fee and take photographs beside it. What frame did you have in mind? Possibly a dark oak or red wood? Sometimes it’s hard to capture one’s thoughts and then to exhibit them publicly Facing the shadows of critique with a singular image that others can vandalize and distort. Tijuana Reindeers Snow cones float around Jupiter absorbing dust Various parts of the anti-matter flatter. Alphabet shaped cereal from breakfast banquets in New Jersey. A group of reindeers gallop into the ocean and into the mouth of a whale They awaken six months later washed up on a beach in Tijuana Children building sand castles gasp for their parents Red crabs slowly devour the carcasses and move in packs towards the esplanade They weave in and out of traffic and narrowly avoid pedestrians as they pass The soul of the reindeer gives them unknown strength to move at rapid speeds One leaves the pack and goes into a Chinese tea house on the corner The waiter collects it off the ground and places him in the lobster aquarium It is displayed on the front store window with fake coral and plastic scuba divers. Customers watch the little crab fight the gigantic lobsters as a one-man army Suddenly Mexican and American tourists are standing on the top of tables waving dollar bills The reindeer strength unleashes super powers onto the lobster He bursts out of the shop glass window The two are fighting in the street Other crab packs return for back up support and all hell breaks loose The collective relocates onto the streets and are all crushed by a passing semi-trailer carrying supplies of tequila, kidney beans and novelty sombreros The driver curses at the creatures and continues his journey north. Drinking from The Hostel of Youth They promised eternal life at reception an infinite party. When you lay in a bunk bed surrounded by snores and grunts. You know you’ve been drinking from the hostel of youth. The showers reek of international sex. The common room has a pile of beatnik novels folded on the same page. When someone has taken your food from the fridge. You know you’ve been drinking from the hostel of youth. When you’ve been out all night with twenty different nationalities and you can’t remember a single name or even the address of where you are staying… You know you’ve been drinking from the hostel of youth. A Product of Your Heroes with Shipping Included This writer, this painter, this actor, this musician is merely nothing more than a product of his heroes. You can now buy this brand-new product and take it home with you today. It will be up to the buyer to figure out what heroes contributed where and how Because buyer beware, instructions are not included. It’s a fun game, fun for the whole family for ages six and up. So buy this product, a product of your heroes with shipping included for a limited time. There is a money back guarantee for unsatisfied customers unable to decipher the influences within At the end of the day it’s all just a game yet very few bother to play it. Burnt Butterfly Immediately after escaping the cocoon the butterfly took flight northbound across whitely’ s impression of the harbor. Grand ocean views different colored depths of blue and plenty of abstract sea traffic. It was all a little bit overwhelming maybe a similar sensation for a tourist flying overheard Reaching higher and higher it seemed no one educated the specie on slow and steady It was summer and he hadn’t heard about the warming just yet - missed the evening news report. Spontaneous combustion! There! A brief flame from above! Floating between the arches of the bridge A driver looked up and thought he saw some sort of obscure phenomenon. But it was really just the beauty of nature’s death. Montserrat The mount has been sliced elegantly with a serrated blade. It looks like a well-done Sunday roast on a vertical dinner plate. Many layers that reach higher than the leftovers Start to slide. I walked to the top of one peak and a Japanese man was walking around in circles. Like an inmate in a prison yard at noon. He had a map as if lost in the metro station He held it up as if it was an umbrella. He asked me where he was, and I said, “Natures main course, a Catalonian delicacy” The map blew out of his hands and soared down the cliff like an eagle. Gliding Down the Quarters I glide down the quarters on a thick sheet of ice. I never lost my balance or swagger. In day it’s wild but at night it’s wilder. You can be lost in an empty street Then found by a twenty-piece horn section. They will comfort you with their soul And show you back to the glowing lights of the bar. A musical search squad of sorts. I’m down here thick in the voodoo and I’m drowning in a sea of gumbo. It’s like Paris in North Queensland. I can see the steam rising from the swamps. St Charles Street knows its architecture and I’d happily be buried in the graveyard. Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper pranced about with whores there once both on and off the screen. That’s a tick in my box and a nail in my coffin. My neck has grown heavy with beads My heart has grown fond with affection for the landscape. My arms and legs have shaken all they could like a man possessed. Cast in some deep southern spell. My brain is dead, and eyes have widened. Better catch the next bus to Texas to play it safe. Otherwise I could be caught between the Quarters forever Bad Blood The nurse advanced with the syringe. He shook like a vibrator in his chair. Regret rose from his gut and went upward towards the forehead. “Now we want good blood, not bad blood” Bad blood, he thought. His blood was as good as any if not better. He would defend his honor if he had to. “Do you have bad blood with anyone?” she asked. He remained silent while seated there in the blinding white. It entered in the mainline, hook line and sinker – Sat in there like a perfect jigsaw piece as she withdrew the red. His eyes rolled back into a state of nausea. Man up, a voice-over boomed from nowhere in particular. The right side of the bullet-hole ceiling. He sat up straight and obedient. She put the blood into the bag. It filled up like a tall glass of Merlot. Stored on a shelf just above some test tubes. His name written on a piece of scotch tape. His blood was good blood and one day it would become someone else’s.