An ex-con named Jesus

He came in one
Day complaining about
The mice and cockroaches
In his hotel room

He sells homeless
Newspapers to
Supplement his
Income

Always with
A smile

Turns out he
Was in prison
For 7 years

He doesn’t look
Like a guy who
Did seven years

But how is
One supposed
To look?

The young activists
Bring him info
On training programs
And workshops to
Help guys like himself

Oh yeah, I’ll be
There for sure
He says

But he
Never
Comes

He’s a
Pleasant
Guy

Today he was eating
A piece of
French bread

He tore off
Piece after
Piece

Tossed it 
To the birds at the
Intersection of somewhere
And nowhere

They know
Him

He’s always
There

With 

wings








An Alibata Lesson

Alibata tattoos
On arms legs
Armpits
Eyelids 

Wiggly symbols
And lines that
Resemble waves 

What wave
Are you? 

Grandpa used to say
That the way to
Tell if spaghetti is
Properly cooked 

Is to take 
A single noodle and
Toss it on the
Ceiling 

If it sticks,
It’s done 

Grandpa is
Long gone 

I looked up
At the ceiling
One day 

A noodle
Was stuck
Up there 

Probably there
For 50
Years 

It looked like
An Alibata
Tattoo 

A wiggly
Line which
Means 

“I’m still
here with 
you” 

no 
translation
needed 








Faith Healer

Never believed
In faith
Healers

Those guys who
Thrust palms
Into foreheads

And proclaim

“…You are healed!”

A brown cup of coffee
Swirls, forming question
Marks

I take a sip
As a roach
Takes ownership
Of the walls

The lottery jackpot
Is 10 million
Tonight

A brown woman
Walks over
Offering her palm

She says
Something in
Spanish

I don’t understand
Spanish although it’s
Widely spoken in the
Neighborhood

I assume she 
Wants some change
For a cup of coffee

I shake
My head

(This means no, in whatever language)

She stands for
A moment with
Her empty palm

I think about
Buying a 
Lottery ticket

I sip the
Coffee

The woman
Slips past me

Gently touches
My shoulder

And in
That instant

I’m healed








Put up your dukes

The neon lights have
Shattered and the 
Signs blurt out incomplete
Words as pigeons perch
On windowsills

A clipboard activist makes
His way up a flight of creaking
Stairs that say everything yet
Say nothing and gives his
ID to the desk clerk who too
Says nothing

The halls smell of last
Week’s urine and the tenants
Stay sealed inside doors with 
Signs that say go away, do not
Disturb, and Jesus loves you…do 
Not knock

A door opens and the clipboard
College-educated activist sees 2
Women on a bed, lesbians fully
Clothed next to an
Empty bottle of Old Crow

The masculine of the two says
She can’t work due to a work-related
Injury and that her neighbor
Stole her jewelry and is trying to
Sell her crack cocaine

The clipboard activist shakes his
Head and says, I understand I 
Understand but deep down wonders
If he really does

The woman holds out her hands
Showing where the surgeon’s knife
Carved the word disabled under
The knuckles 

A collection of tears drop into her 
Hands and the clipboard activist
Jots down the who what when
And why

And the woman says she
Can’t work anymore, that she’s
A decent person, that’s she
Needs help, help, help
Please help me

She sits next to her lover
Next to the empty bottle
Her two useless hands
At her sides catching tears


Making
Fists








Technology

Rainbow was a fellow 
Who worked at a non-
Profit organization whose
Mission was to fight the
Plight of the poor

The poor profited from
His generosity that amounted
To a warm cup of coffee, donut
Holes and a jelly donut
Here and there

Rainbow sat at his desk
Typing a letter on his
Computer, pounding and
Pounding like some crazy
Concert pianist when he 
Stopped and declared

My “A” doesn’t work
Any
More

His keyboard was awash in
A plastic smile and again he
Punched the “A” key with his
Pinky and again it didn’t
Work

He sat for several
Minutes and realized
There wasn’t much he
Could do without his “A”

He unplugged the
Keyboard and said,
What profiteth a man that 
He gain the whole world but
Loseth his own “A”?

He got up and
Got busy
Searching for
It









Tough Flip

The Pilipino guy
Is the baddest looking
Guy on the block

Has a scar running 
Over the bridge
Of his nose

His name is 
Tattooed on his
Neck in cursive

Percival

Works as a transport
Specialist at the 
Pilipino restaurant on
The corner

Transporting boxes of
Lumpia wrappers, produce,
Rice noodles, meat, meat
By-products and toilet paper
From point A to point B

On a
Hand truck

Placing it all

Ober dare
Ober dare
Ober dare!

When asked how things
Are going, he
Answers

So far…no good

Says he’s hanging in
There…has been hanging
In for more than 20 years

I graduated from
Hanging in there
University, he adds

Hang-U
For short

He’s one
Of their many
Success stories









Activist poem

He came straight out
Of the university 
Armed with piss,
Vinegar, octane

And of course
His college
Degree

He got a gig
With a non-profit
Organization

He was going
To change
The world

He even 
Tattooed the words:

I’m gonna change
The world

On his
Arm

(In Chinese)

he saw
the poor
all over

he tried to
organize
them

to overthrow
the tyranny
of the man

he even
started a
writing group

he served
tea and
cookies

he meant
well

the people came
and sometimes
they didn’t

he wanted
to change
the world

the people
the system
the structure

but he
never changed

his
underwear









Cruise Ship

On a cruise ship
Heading to
Mexico

The water underneath
Moved across the
Underbelly of the ship

I barely felt 
It

I laid back
On deck and
Took a nose dive
Into the sky

The size of the
Ship was enormous

11 stories
High

I woke and
Headed to
The buffet

I stuffed myself
Like a pillowcase,
A mattress

When I was
Done, I resembled
Many of the other
Passengers

A stuffed
Animal

Ready to float
On the water

Waiting for
The next
Meal

I was amazed

This was not
A cruise
Ship

It was an
Eating ship

We ate to
Our hearts
Content

The TV aired
Reports about Hurricane
Katrina but we were
Too busy to watch

We were
Eating

The workers on the ship
Were from lots
Of places

The Caribbean
The Philippines
Czec Republic
India

They smiled
And served
Us

And we
Stuffed
Ourselves

While New Orleans
And Mississippi drowned
In negligence and indifference

We stuffed ourselves
With nothing
Not knowing

If we
Were heading
For

New
Orleans









TV preacher

The TV preacher comes
On every Sunday morning
And says, listen…listen

And I scratch my 
Crotch, bend my ear, arch
My back and give the man
My undivided attention

The TV preacher cites
Scripture like a lawyer cites
Suits and cases and I 
Listen…listen

The TV preacher talks about
The 10 commandments but 
Doesn’t look like Moses, but
Rather a member of the 

National rifle association

Anyway, this TV preacher
Says if you work for a man
Or Wo(man) and don’t push 
Hard, don’t give it your all,

You are engaging
In theft, in stealing

I scratch my
Crotch some more

And wonder why the 
TV preacher failed to add
That it is also theft

For the boss to
Pay a sub-living wage
Or knowingly subject employees
To hazards that would result in
A diminishing sperm count

Or that selling
Water is also
Theft

I wonder
Why

He left
That

Out?










Déjà vu

They were the guys that
Kicked my ass in grade
School, junior high, all
The way through high school

Their shoeprints are still
Imbedded in my
Backside

Maybe they thought
They were stepping
On the moon

Now I work as a tenant
Advocate and they come
In telling me that their
Landlords are harassing them

Rats, roaches, mice
No heat

Is there anything you
Can do to help me?

I sit across at my desk
Feeling like the Godfather of
A Mafia crime family without
Guns, money, power or a
Family itself

I tilt my head, fold my
Hands like a Hollywood
Godfather

What’s in it for
Me, I’d like to 
Ask but don’t

I offer warm coffee
Instead and write down
Complaint after
Complaint

They’re getting
Kicked in the
Ass

I know how
They feel

Time to
Kick some
Ass

Together









Ode to Hawaiian Shirts

An extra-large
Hawaiian shirt is
An activist shirt

Got 5 of ‘em
At home

Don’t have
To tuck ‘em
In

They hide your excess
Around the
Middle

And your
Disappointments

Those shirts 
Allow you to
Shake your ass

When you really 
Want to grab some
Idiot’s neck and shake
Him 

You can hang loose
In a Hawaiian
Shirt
 
With Tropical birds 
Singing their epic songs 
Declaring freedom
From the man

And every tropical drink
Under every kind of
Umbrella 

All my heavy in the
Middle activist
Comrades wear
Hawaiian shirts

Multicultural
Lushes of the
Highest order, 
They are


Fists thrust
High into
The sky

Shaking the
foundations

And shaking
Their asses

As they
Should