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Yup, poetry. Two of them, to be precise.


The first was written in 1990 for a certain tv show. Intended to suggest the words of a certain still-living character expressing his love for his also still-living enamorata. Never used.



MGM Love Poem


I had no thought for Love,

Nor love for me. The stars

Still shone, the rivers ran

Ere I met her. Yet these now show

Themselves anew. The world

Has been reformed, for now

The stars are made complete by her

The rivers run at her command

And I myself am only whole

When she takes hold my hand.



The second was written in 1985, after the death of my mother.


Epazote, an Herb


Casa Moneo

Used to be a mystery

Down there on Fourteenth Street

Terra Incognita. You made it part of

Our mental map: the place to get

A tortilla press

A comal

A molcajete

Jalapenos, serranos and poblanos.

Everyone there spoke Spanish

Your French was useless with them.

They still told you where everything was.

We would enter the store,

Lists in hand, your wide blue writing

Raiding another climate to take home booty for dinner

We would laugh

At the oddly printed labels

At the strange dried plant parts

At the mystery of it all

You, my mother.

They have epazote now,

At Casa.

All your life

You never tasted it.  We planted

Some in Central Park

Once, when I was nine

Me watching for cops, a mother

And young son, obviously planting

Marijuana. The epazote never grew.

When I saw it,

Cellophane packages behind the register,

I wanted to buy it all

Backtrack time

Race back into your hospital room

Put some on your tongue

So you’d die

Having known how it tasted.





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