recent unedited poems

It's easy to find ones worth
in a culture with no soul
built on pop music catering to
the uniqueness which you seek.

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Of men who aim to take our essence
to place in jars and study
the movement of severed body parts
taken in our sleep
of women who fight to keep standing
between the stanzas that fall at their feet.

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I look for you in a sea of
people I'll never meet
I smell Tamales on the lips of
the man sitting next to me
though his touch ill never feel from
the three feet we sit away
there may be something to learn from
his continuous look-away.