From High Up Here

From high up here, it's crystal clear:
His graded garden down the street—
its charcoal soil, the ancient bed
of colored life, the humid home
of carrots, pumpkins, yams, and corn;
tomatoes, radish, luscious beets;
cilantro, okra, tasty peas;
and melons (huge and juicy, near 
the orchid flowers); planted, grown,
and toiled upon for many hours
by swarthy hands that hurt, in gloves;
with grace and zeal, unsullied love—
resembles any other dirt. 

Short Poems #3-4

His Love was Thrashing 'Gainst her Heart

His love was thrashing 'gainst her heart, 
then pulling back, releasing shards
of colored glass—erect like guards.
His love and hate displayed; like art.


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Perfumed Sunspot

The alley boys had asked if I
had tasted June's perfumed sunspot.
I've gauged devotion only by
the nightly pecks of moonless sky.