The Undercover Chicano Speaks (Day 17 Prompt: Risk)

In the hierarchy
of White racism
I see  
two distinct reactions:

 
first,
there is hard hatred
against Black skin
and those who 
inhabit it,
the blacker the skin,
the more virulent
the animus, and

second,
there is soft hatred
against those
who are off-white,
of which I am
one.

Since I am not
as dark as others, 
I do not endure the same 
wrath as they do,
but don't think
this is any kind 

of protection.

As I am 
fair-skinned,
the White racists
sometimes forget
that I am non-White

and let me see 
who they really are

-in all their 

entitled ignorance and ignominy-

and I can test 
in real-time
whether their 
words and actions 
align 
into ethical integrity.

This perspective
is a blessing,
and the finding
is often a curse,

but that's the risk 

you take

when you're 

the Undercover Chicano. 

The Best English Teacher I Ever Knew (unprompted)

"I wanted to say
that Bob Tomes
was the best English teacher
I ever knew
because he was 
encouragring
to the point of 
indulging me
and my unreachable dream
of being a playwright.

He was kind and funny 
and didn't take himself 
too seriously
and let his students 
do the same.

More than anything else
he treated me like
a peer,
an equal, 
-which I 
clearly 
was not-
but this led me 
to believe 
someday 
I could become
someone he read
and admired.

Yes, so if I felt this
way about him
as a student,
I can only imagine

what it would
have been to be 
his son.

I'm so sorry
for your loss, Jay,
and I'm also sorry
I didn't get a chance
to say these things 
to your dad
before he died."

Playwright Story (Day 14 prompt: "blank" Story)

I wanted to be a playwright

which gave me the first taste of 

playing God,

fixing the problems 

in my real life with 

imaginary characters.

My plays had great 

dialogue

but terrible plotlines 

because I could never figure out 

how to end the story.

I just liked being 

in the moment

one person 

communing,

communicating 

with another. 

I tried five times

and finally quit

and this is why 

I am here 

doing this 

now.

I no longer

play God 

nor do I want to,

and I am 

ever surprised 

by the endings

written for me. 

x

The Sign-Off (Day 13: didn't write to prompt)

In a previous media world
before the existence of 
the 24-hour broadcast day,
television represented 
a stable world to me.

I thought 

everything in the world 

shut down 
when the stations 

signed off for the night.

I imagined the lonely
tape operators 
playing the 

canned messages telling everyone 
about the end of broadcast day

and imbued it with a gray 

duty-bound romance.

If I ever stayed up late
to see it,
it was oddly comforting 
to hear the sermonette 

or other words of wisdom,

 
and them the Star-Spangled Banner 
then came 
the unceremonious 

disorienting signal loss 

and the loss of connection 
to the rest of the world

and my world became unstable
again
until the 
next broadcast day.

56 Days in the Time Machine (Prompt 12: Time/Future)

Every year
starting November 12 
and ending January 6
I allow myself
to linger in the 
time machine of 
Christmas music.

It is one of the few
lifelong continuities
still comforting
this solitary soul,
with visions of warmth,
togetherness and love.

Images of people long gone,
places long forgotten
and things I thought were important,
softly bubble up through 
my memory like a slowly
cooking stew.

I forget where I am
and remember 
where I was,
who I was
and am thankful 
for this awareness
and the familiar glow
of hopefulness at 
Christmastime.

The Uncontrollable Teardrop (Day 11 prompt: fear)

The fear is not
secret,
we broadcast it 
by our avoidance.

Our fear is 
the uncontrollable teardrop.

We are trained to be 
strong
in-control
impenetrable,

but
when we fail,
then comes the deluge,
untamed and embarrassing.

Our species 
will not survive
without a radical rethink 
of male tears.

One properly placed
teardrop
might be all it takes
to bring down the
patriarchy.

Why do you think
The Male Code
is so strongly guarded?

Tears make us 
human,
and humanity makes us equal,
and there is no hierarchy, 
no property ownership,
no power differential 
in humanity.

The uncontrollable teardrop
can change us
from machines back into
people again.

The Struggle to Walk over Burning Coals (Day 10 prompt: Struggle)

It is a struggle 
to walk over burning coals 
when we do not expect it 

to hurt.

We struggle when
we don't accept things
as they are.

Life is difficult 
when we fight 

the universe
fate

or anything else
we have no control over.

When we try
to resist the 
will of the universe, 

or fate
the will of 
something greater,
plan for a struggle.

So, it's easier 

to change our way,

than it is 

to change

the will of the universe,

or fate, 

or the will of 

something greater. 

Try to remember 

you can only change
what you have 

some control over.

Let go 

of everything else,
and most of the struggles

will go with it.

Then

your next challenge 

will be 

staying clear 

of the burning coals

in your path.

The Nose of the Matter (Day 9 Prompt: Blank of the Blank)

Every night 
when I emerge from the shower,
hair wet and thinning

I see your face
in the mirror:

the unembarrassed scalp,
the big, unforced smile,
the shnozzola.

Yes, I am my father's son
and with every day
I am happier 
about this fact.

Kisses (Day 8 prompt: form, haiku)

Cold, dark steel-gray sky

Down come countless wet kisses

Wash away the pain.

This Adaptable Heart (Day 7 prompt: Adapt)

This heart continues beating
as if it was only 
an internal perpetual motor
without memory.

It breaks often- 
sometimes of my own doing,
sometimes it is broken for me-
but it still continues,
hopeful,
encouraging
and unstoppable.

She broke my heart,
it kept going.
God took my father
it kept beating.
I walked away 
defeated
and it never abandoned me.
I fail  
and heaped scorn and shame
upon myself,
and yet it is still here.

Yesterday,
I lost my wedding band
and I fear it is gone for good.

My heart broke
but it never stopped.
It just kept going while
I took the time 

and accepted the inevitable.

This heart I carry

is my reminder
to keep pushing on 
while I still can,

and trust that it will
still be there,

always working,
always helping,

my trusted friend. 

None of this is New (Day 6 Prompt: News)

There is 

nothing new 

under the sun,

except us

and our 

consciousness.

The Stoics believed

no man steps 

into the same stream 

twice. 

 

So, 

the words may be new,

but the themes are

unchanging and

universal:

desire

greed

avarice

tragedy

pain

struggle.

We change 

and the world changes

and none of this is 

new,

except 

this 

very 

moment

and 

everything

it 

touches.

This is Not a Test (Day 5 Prompt: Peril)

THIS IS NOT A TEST.
THIS IS NOT A REALITY TV SHOW.
THIS IS AN EXISTENTIAL THREAT.
THIS IS NASCENT FASCISM.

Democracy is in peril.

In a democracy
your vote is the great equalizer,
not wealth,
not education,

not skin color.

Do not vote for someone 
who wants to take away 
your right to vote.  

Reminds me of a
sign in my dentist's office:
ignore your teeth 
and they'll go away.

If we 
ignore democracy
we do so 
at our own 
peril.

In the Garage (Day 4 Prompt: In The ...)

In the garage
in my cannabis haze
in the memory of a love song
in the embrace of my girl
in our 20 year marriage
in a world I never dreamt possible

in love.  

I Pray for the Birds

Every night
I walk past the cage,
dim the lights,
bring my palms together
and solemnly pray:

“I pray for the birds:
please watch over them,
keep them safe,
keep them comforted,
help me to provide for them.

Also,
help them to
be kind to one another
share their food,
clean water,
may they enjoy
the sweet brace
of fresh air.

While they are in
temporary cages,
may they one day
fly again,
and when they do,
may they
glorify Your name
and sing Your praises.”

I pray for
the birds,
as I pray for all
of us,

with our feathers ruffled,
songs screeching,
and confused expressions,

for we are no more
grand than
Your birds.

The Darkest Hour

It wasn’t
the darkest hour
when I found out
he died.

I prayed
it was merely
a week-long nightmare
from which
I’d awaken.

Still,
I’d cried, laughed
written a eulogy
but mostly
that week
I held my breath
magically thinking
I’d awaken
and not be
fatherless.

The darkest hour
came later
when my widowed mother
couldn’t bear
to let anyone
go home.

The funeral was done.
The reception was finished.
Her house was empty.

Crushed
by the weight
of his absence
the darkest hour
that started
in 1999

still isn’t finished
yet.

Curve

I exhale
and watch
the vapor
in it's lazy,
coiled
heavenward
spiral,

the curve,
of the ocean wave
the tremble clef,
her ass,

this abstract
geometry
points
to the beauty
and the mystery
of the Divine.

How to Live Forever

“Well,
not every experiment works.

We try and learn from the stuff
that doesn’t work as well.

Not everyone can discover penicillin,
you know.

So,
even though you still
have not unlocked
the mystery of mortality
perhaps,
you amused  yourself,
and that’s something.

The captain said
“the reward is in the doing,

and if that’s not the truth,
then you
better find something else
to do.”

Whatever you’ve got
in front of you,
lowly and modest
though it be,

experience it,
live it,
inhale it,
jump in it
and splash about
and from that

make something
that will outlast you:

the best would be
if you made
your life
a glorious gift,

freely given
to everyone.

It would be
so beautiful,

that your love would
outlast you,
outlive you,

and that’s’ how
you live
forever.”

Bequeathed

"Here's how we're
going to do this:

take all those boxes
labeled
"Writings: 1977-1994"

make sure they are
double sealed and
and put them in
the archive stack.

No one's going
to want to read
those,
besides everyone
he wrote those for
are either long dead
or married.

Then there's that
plastic bin
of cassette demo tapes.

I don't think
he's ever going
to bounce those
to digital,
so I think we can
archive those too.

Then,

all his stuff from
online....sheesh 
it's scattered
everywhere.

It's like he had no
discretion
just because he wrote
under a pseudonym.

You have all the
passwords, right?

OK, then
here's what you do:
go through
each site
and take each one offline.

Don't delete them,
just don't let
anyone see them
until his daughter
has had a chance
to see them,
to review them.

Well,
since he
bequeathed
to her
all the rights
to all his artistic
(yeah, right)
artistic products,

until she decides
how to proceed,

I guess we can consider
Buddah Moskowitz
offline indefinitely.

For now.

Wow,
it just hit me
that he's really gone."

The Consultation

"Hey, Danny,
listen before
the girls get back,

I gotta
ask you something:

I'm thinking about
marrying Anita.
What do you think?

Great.
Yes, I agree,
she's a phenomenal woman.

Yes,
I love the kids,
they just sweetened
the deal.

No, no tonight,
but I'm planning
to propose
on my birthday.

Yeah,
great, thanks,
and obviously,

don't tell anyone.

Thanks, Sh!

Here they come."

The Gold Experience

"Of course,
we can make that
happen,
silly.

You're one of
my favorites.

Ok, let's make sure
we're on
the same page:

So, you're looking
for the
"Silver Experience?"

Oh, "Gold?"

That's a better deal
because it starts
with a warm stone
table bath,
including the
pomegranate scrub.

And we'll follow
that up with the
full-orifice lubrication
with imported
Middle East
saffron oil,
including all-digital
full prostate gland
stimulation.

Following that
you get the
full-body
45-minute
skin-on-skin
Swedish Massage.

And
by that time,
if I've done
my job right,
you'll probably be
ready for
Arrival Expression.

So, let me total
that out,

just a sec...

So, that comes
to $740,
before tax and tip.

We take all cards
(except American Express)
and, of course,
cash.

Yes,
cash is
best of all."