Performance poetry has always been a passion of mine.

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I’ve been honored to share my work all around the world, but one of my favorite memories is the day I competed in a tag team poetry bout with my mentor, poet and author Quincy Troupe at the Taos Poetry Circus Heavyweight Championship.

We didn’t win but I was invited back the following year and went on to earn the Championship title twice in back-to-back wins.

cinnamon-dusted children

my junior-high was chai tea
all our ethnic flavors mixed into the scent of the day
our lessons coated with roasting spices
recess bell, the red brick smokestack’s cloud
gave us a contact high

we breeched the doberman’s chain link fiefdom
with soda cans and candy wrappers
offerings foretelling the confectioner’s plot

we, Nisei BWI banshees tumbling through
the vapors of caramelized cane fields
harvested prematurely by our island-bound water-bound kindred
rolling bills into mason jars, safe for the cross-over

we children of the children, of the children of the sugarcane

this is a time of necessary rage
the anima Amazon’s shorn breast
and arrows blazing through clenched teeth
seal the deceiver’s words

the lesson is agitation

hand and cup, and extension of self, limbs fragile, tipsy with sleep
heading toward the headquarters of Armageddon
hot java in a second-hand, novelty mug
personality chooses a two-toned blue identity for today
acquiesce, a passenger in the Chariot
(embarrassed when the horse frequently stops to take a leak, but what can I do?)
slashing through the present 
the morning opening along the dotted yellow (traffic) lines (lanes)

I have accessorized my self- loathing with accolades
years in stuffy color-coordinated institutions
that don’t match my eyes
my vision custom-made
smiled at legacy babies buying degrees
as the intellectual security guards direct me 
to the affirmative action sale rack
not believing I have the currency of a privileged past

She is Trippin’

I never said I’d restore your faith in women
show me my signature
and I’ll relinquish my right to these blues

she is trippin’
over inconsistencies called bad timing
and working late

he is trippin’, too
losing his buttons, keys, comb
accusing her just to make up again
howling loud enough to excite dogs

when he licked her ear
she swore she could hear her angel apologizing
man in the crown of sunflowers and feathers
incarnate Axis Mundi of her creation myth

she used to be a satellite orbiting his whims
but in his mirrored universe
constellations sprung from lapses of adoration

there is no enchantment, no incantation
strong enough to rein him
only empty candle holders
rotting offerings, evaporating rum
and wishes written in menses

desire is an imperfect conjuring
some miracles come assembly required
he’s got babies but he’s married to convenience
lives on an overwrought soundstage
reading lines penned by his wife
he often misspells ‘love’
unless she writes it with her Mont Blanc
they approximate the stance of lovers
posture through emotions meant to simulate affection
glance through forgettable conversations
dancing the tango of the richly delusional

she used to believe in chupparosas and glass slippers, too
deep loving that leaves you weak, mouth to sky
singing one-note blues in likker hurricanes when it’s gone
we both search for signs of maturity
but you are only as old as your last spanking
he shaves regularly, leaves us disappointed
counting nights like sheep, like tears

but if your number ain’t been called
don’t claim the prize
he is the lesson returned without disguise
he’s got honest eyes and misdemeanor lips
he is an infant in a man’s skin
playing red light, green light with intimacy

and she, woman-child wanting ice cream and hugs
taking cold showers 
worrying bout who’s gonna help this young thing
don’t we all want Beulahs and bon-bons to make it all better
she gives in like a bad kharma Kahlo
feeding the parasite she stole off another fish

she is holding the black mirror
pondering which of her deeds
manifested this beast in her bed
pockets his wedding ring
wondering
what the rest of us are settling for
if this is all the heaven she can steal

THE JOCKEY OF ARTEMISION

when the unicorn became extinct 
long lines of horses stood outside the castle gates
silent and reproachful, monarchs slept uneasy
no books will tell you, but the sorrow still resides 
and on those rare days when the sky turns amber 
you may catch equestrian elders lift their heads a little higher
and see their eyes roll to their forelocks, ears flattened
straining for a moment to imagine 
the mythic weight of their ancestor’s horn

HOW TO FIND DARKNESS IN THE NEW WORLD

look under a rich man’s shadow
check mouse holes, back alleys, service entrances,
dank places where servitude is the order of the day
where corpses die wearing obsequious smiles 

listen for accents pushing strollers
you will find them wrist deep in tepid water
bathing alabaster babies, grooming young lions
while their own kids pour boxed breakfasts for themselves 

look for darkness in wine-colored areoles
suckling fantasies, their nappy thatch
delights multi-hued henchmen,
the slippery path to her gilded temple
is lined with broken teeth 

darkness wields a cleaver with saintly restraint
culinary excellence the only superiority allowed, ordered, served
and arranged, the palate quickly learns the piquant balance
of survival versus rage, freedom versus self-expression 

look for sports jesters in puma skins
or concrete-spawned minstrels of hip-hype economics
darkness invented anti-gravity bootstraps from chicken scratch
flies above the spectacle of its celebrity, casting no shadow 

darkness is in the melissma of soul divas
hoping the aural callaloo houses magic enough
to soothe the sudden dead, improvisation
being a time-honored talisman against grief 

look in the dictionary under ‘whiteness’
we wrote that definition, credited to ‘anonymous’
signed and dated its birth certificate,
and left the father’s name blank,
not wanting to incriminate you 

see, darkness is always here
always has been
darkness held open the door for you today,
to come into the light

WOMAN IS WATER

Water is woman is water
swelling, ebbing, birthing, 
seeping, melting, 
freezing, crystalizing, 
boiling, vaporizing, 
shrouding, embracing, always adapting

capricious nurturer, your power lies in knowing 
matter is fluid, every butterfly wing 
can cast waterspouts

water is the muse of form
the droplet eternally suspended over an infinite pool of desires
one descends, another is poised to fall
water takes on the expressions of your desires
and pours ice into your cup

woman is mother is living water
half our earth, portal between manifestation
and dreams, prayer and life

droplets of beads in our story belt
a way to remember, which dances brought rain
and an Oriyu water-spirit channeled through
the sweetest parts of me
washed dirt and dust
soothed, my hands steepled over heart

mother is water is prayer is life is a mirror is beauty 
is breath of mist, is alchemists
mother is water is goddess is water is
restorative, rejuvenating fountain of divinity, monthly Red Sea

Beauty
your birth was prefaced by water
first bath, squirmed as if water burnt your skin
as if you hadn’t breathed fluid 
in your indescribable amniotic sea
before lungs met introduced air
before your rainbow crowned my world

woman is water, water, water, water, water, water
quenching wave after wave, boundless thirst
water is woman is mother is goddess is magic is ocean of all creation

She Who Turns the Spigot, controls your reality 
but water lies low, 
adopting the contours of any vessels that seeks to hold it
disguising depth with placid surfaces
respects no boundaries or weakness
disappears but is never truly gone
escapes as stealthy molecules driven by wind

who truly rules water?
it answers only to the Moon 

unseen baton orchestrating choirs of gentle waves
the bright bay of midday sun
cool hypnotic subterranean pool

corrugated light in the cistern water

abstracted patterns on undulating surfaces

animated pixies of color and contrast

my eyes float, unfocused

absorbing it all

longing to plunge in 

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CHAC, CHALCHIUHTLICUE, JAGUAR, TLALOQUES , TONENILI,
an ORIYU rain, rainfall, rivers, a water-spirit

IDEMILI, OKO-YUMO,  OSHUN, SIRENA, VEDENEMO, a NIX
water nymphs, sprites, goddesses of love, a water-spirit

AIPALOOVIK, CYMOPOLEIA, MÍMIR, NOOTAIKOK, PARICIA, SCYLLA 
storms, icebergs, destruction, and wisdom

ENKI, FONTUS, GRANNUS, NERTHUS 
fountains, springs, wells