Pedro Trevino-Ramirez

 

May, 2003

ran out of gas, headlong
arrow drive flagstaff
tailed screaming by new
jersey rotstench & the
voice of a pocono high
school whore
"he wanted me every
way in this scrap city"--
looking for dawn out
west and she beside me
eating our money, slammed
public phone cradles &
fought wild in excess motel
parking--
better believe a wrong turn
means something on a straight
road

 

Long Street Enough

I walked for three days and
     could not find the edge
          of anything.
Murder dance in boots.
     Animal error. My
          instinct worn tho
judgment never was.
     And I walked for three days,
          knowing all & none.

 

O' Machine, O' Saint

See what holding I have for you in
care, my brother; Ramirez is dead.

He expired a common dog in the
barrio, took from it shanks and

slept well with its bitch for days be-
coming. His hand regarded

metro, spiced rum, methadone,

let breath on a woman's cunt, un-
coiled the axle bare tooth

& spine

to ease coroners of the task. He
wore a country's stigma breathing,

his body crossed to be executed
in rows of gravel & mesquite.

I have emptied homes for him, my
brother, I have cleared cities

& tallied bottles, heads; turn and
face the wall, the barrels

have it locked.

 

Lake Street: Two Dogs Scrap

Here are my compassions to you, the
man I strangled, who polished a

gallon of vodka, shut light from his
forest and pissed on my coat--

once I was casualty; the sky had tired,
become me a wretch, so goddamn if I

do not know your staff & sign

when your face, down shooting
pharmaceutical, realizes that helpless

sorrow, casualty--

but know this, brethren dirt; I would
have strangled your girl likewise had

she not looked so sweet sleeping.

Her morning must have found you
unconscious and cursed me walking

the lakeside road, rank in urine, dis-
content, my resolve to not hang you.

 

Murdered a Man Talking

I shaved my beard and
put my fist     through

the maw where words have
come of nothing let go to

speak that which I alone
bare remembrance & recog-
                   nition

 

XIV

Day waking; o, unknown
ruin may course!     I've to
leave the cuestas, abandon
     the barlight rush
     of mad tail--
I say holding you in wool
& arm,     Let fell trees
splinter ruin may course
uncertain but our hands to
course played no author;
what is the fear in you and
may I splinter this in day
waking us entangled--
there is God in pearl,
alleyway. His is a blanket
makeshift and we can go
cold, or drunk and cold,
     for I to come your city
     cold will come by day;
     this is certain.
We will make this our
home, Soraya, of footing
slips cropped, my hands
held fast to your stomach,
roulette gunned morning,
no fear, no loss.

 

XIII

I too was heading someplace weary of
lonesome deathbed godhood, weary of

morons wasting time & paper in our
further territory, but you, who had

written in counsel "be clear the fat
white arm of Italy, the dumb mass of

children cast off; north boy, blue of my

heart, be cognitive this possession our
love and always near our bed familiar

have me" you, you

had then in lengths already owned me; a
marigold livens drab, a rider takes

through brick, I am somehow kinder.

 

Megan

what is father with books
& letters tho no daughter

was it a nigger stole you
or some lushed yankee

your head pulled back,
put to the dash, put

through the window,
blacked your eyes &

mouth

did you taste yourself, the
thing you were of pulp

& cracked jaw, cement
tooth, glass shard, sweet

jane buds & ocean,
oh, ocean

did you see me there with
earl, said "the sky be clear

& the moon out"

was it a bad call that go,
was it shit luck or the way