Snapshots Of Central America-1990 to 1992

SNAPSHOTS OF CENTRAL AMERICA_1990-1992

Intro

For thirty years I had fantasized about an overland trip from Oregon to the tip of South America.  I wanted to experience the distance and the geographic conditions that allowed so many unique cultures to evolve.  I wanted to do it inexpensively. I wanted to take my time. So with a lots of time and little money, I set out to fulfill my dream.

The adventure began immediately. First I closed down a successful art glass studio of 12 years and leased my house.  When I boarded the Green Tortoise, an alternative bus company, I had no idea where I was going except South and eventually Tierra del Fuego.

After 6 weeks on the Pacific beaches of Mexico, I crossed the border into Guatemala. An important goal for me was to learn Spanish in order to share with new friends. So I moved in with a family and took lessons 5 hours a day.  After 3 weeks, my language proficiency had increased substantially. I also began to realize that Central America would require at least 7 months, so I decided to only go as far as Panama.   My journey was not just about destinations, but how I would experience each day getting there.

I set out alone, but traveled 75% of the time with other travelers.  It was comforting as I felt that we were all part of another culture that transcended political borders.  I was a full participant in a community of spirited individuals with a global perspective. We shared rooms, food, personal philosophies, and new adventures.

The majority were from Europe, although a few were from the USA, Canada, Australia, Japan, Israel, and Argentina.  Sometimes we spoke only Spanish in order to communicate. It became our common language.  We drew strength from each other in our daily commitment to a non violent world and a healthy planet where all around us were hints of environmental tragedy and oppression. We moved through the Americas as observers and tried to leave nothing more than a footprint of our experiences and interactions behind.   

One aspect of my journey was spiritual. I had been feeling a strong need to reconnect with myself and community. The word, reconnect, is key and there were many doors which I unlocked.

Another aspect of my journey was a warrior's quest, discovering my dragons. I wanted to identify those attitudes and behavioral patterns that prevent me from living life fully. Initially my objective was to slay these dragons.  I realized in time, however, that what I really wanted was to understand them, to make them my friends, to redirect their energy. My effort has being paying dividends.

After a couple of months in the mountains of Guatemala, I journeyed to the Caribbean Islands off Honduras.  I camped on some with no food, electricity, or water.  They were just as beautiful as you are imagining this very moment. Yes, there were coconut trees and the jar of peanut butter, though not essential, connected me with home.

A trip by cargo boat and hiking took me up the Mosquito Coast to isolated Caribe villages only accessible by sea. We forded rivers, swam in sweet water lagoons, visited crocodile invested swamps, and lived almost everyday on rice and beans. The journey continued across Nicaragua and ended in Costa Rica, visiting its tropical parks and active volcanoes. Since it was the beginning of the rainy season, I decided Panama could wait. I traveled back to Oregon overland by bus, enjoying the spring, juicy mangoes, and my first solar eclipse.

I was home on time for Thanksgiving with family and friends, leaving a few days later. I flew directly to Chile for the best weather in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. The plan was to travel from the tip of South America overland mainly following the Pan American Highway System. Of course there were many distractions and detours along the way as I crisscrossed South America by hitchhiking, bus, and boat to Oregon.  It took me over a year to return to Portland.  

Why didn't I write a traditional journal?  As I mentioned,  my journals tend to become a record of where I stayed, what I paid, who I met, and so on. What I hoped to capture were those fleeting moments when I was fully present. If pictures are worth a thousand words, then perhaps poetic snapshots could help me visually remember those ordinary experiences that moved me deeply.  Because of this approach, I was able to be more openly playful, to share my most intimate fears and thoughts. For me this journal is successful.

I also wrote to share my journey with you.  Your reading is an adventure we can take together. I hope you enjoy my poems. And yes, I also compiled a second year of poems, covering my journey through South America. Unfortunately they are entombed on an early floppy, read only by my old Mac Plus purchased in 1986. One day I'll figure out how to resurrect them.

POEMS

MY ROOM

Morning light invades my sleep

defining noises of the dark

A fan whirls a swim suit flaps

my earthen room is warming

fresh fruit market treasures

capture my senses

A small space with banos

three times my concrete bed

positioned by the shower

the sink an easy reach

my knees pressed against the wall

my nose wet
the dampness

penetrates my being

Self-contained luxurious

white stained walls no decor
only Mexican revolutionaries

picturesque on horseback

guard the warrior as he sleeps

A baby’s cry begins its serenade

A chorus of clearing throats 

and foreign chatter ascend

the courtyard to my balcony

Only 1 block to the beach

purified water toilet paper free

I like my room

mas economica

and clean

MEANDERINGS

Walked picked up trucked

The sea air sings

palms caress with shade

waves sun themselves

I bake and burn 

a coke sign flaps noiselessly

local fuel warm Pepsi cools

a world of contrasts refreshing

Cliffs steep free of clinging trees

Water green blue tepid

The sand brown littered
 with yesterday and children

some beautiful

others mirror their poverty

Palapa colors invade the senses
orange and red bathe table tops

 chairs pink and blue stand poised

each indistinguishable visually rich

the same with boats

the same with clothes

the same with names

here continuity abounds

A gift the present

sitting writing seeing

time for friends

hours to share myself

prioritizing life treasures

And there above the sea
from thirty feet a pelican

free falls on unsuspecting fish

a young boy casts his net

a perfect circle a successful catch

seagulls glide preparing a distraction

like rain drops from the sky 

to claim a morsel missed
by pelicans and young boys

everyone enjoying Melaque Bay 

LEAVING 

Today I leave Melaque 

by 8 it's only a rumor 

 launched our panga 
carries us over opposing waves

to fish and dive these local waters 
5 elders escort me 

guiding my initiation

amidst small islands with cactus tops 

Today I am filled with spirit 

my body fluid like the sea 

today my world is peaceful 

there is always tomorrow 

for goodbyes and buses 

for leaving Melaque 

A JOURNEY NEVER ENDS 

Four days home 

why so sad melancholy
 this sunny day 

the ad is placed 

the house will rent 

I will journey soon 

to South America 

to meet new brothers 
and imagined places

yet I feel uneasiness
a disconnection unplugged

Sunday finds me at the center
new thought new age

meditative healing prose 

inspires me enriches me 

 to join the celebration
to embrace the community

I breathe deeply meditate
my tranquilizer muscles rejoice  

it's not tomorrow that I crave
 but this very moment

I'm enlivened applaud my awareness 

laughing at my momentary confusion

 a wrong turn a dead end road
I return to the junction
the adventure continue 

A MAN DRUGGED

The boy 

he sees a dog 

he throws his coconut 

he misses 

startling a crouching cat

waiting for the last shrimp 
pelicans spiralling 

splashing on swirling fish
following the coconut
to the water's edge
I wonder if it's ripe
how sweet it is
I look for other coconuts

I look at every woman 

with tasty interest 

a man drugged 

on sun and coke

 and three palapas

I am full I am sleepy
the coconut now beached
not another in sight

every woman still of interest
I head for the hammock 

LISTENING

Salty water 

pulsing up down 

rattling rocks my thoughts 

sailboats hover close 

beckoning 

for new adventures 

I sit in the shade 

a free park 

overcome with sleep 

listening 

for my response 

to midnight parties 

to a drunk Canadian 

to his fuck off 

while in shallow water 

4 divers interrupt 

their treasure

a tennis shoe 

will I do better 

the farther south I journey 

WATER BOILING 

Water boiling

pelicans alert young boys 

full speed running the beach 

to heave big nets at tiny fish 

Water boiling 

big fish unseen flap their tails 

stunning schooled children 

little ones caught in nets 

Water boiling 

the bait is cast lines secured 

hours of waiting yield to action 

Water boiling 

confused seas a daily display

where big fish herd little fish 

little fish tempt big fish 

young boys and pelicans 

share their cleverness 

mothers everywhere are proud

Water boiling 

SPANISH LESSON 

I wake early to study spanish 

first a walk the bowels need cleansing 

a good breakfast some conversation 

exercising daily I run the beach

stopping strangers indulging fishermen 

It's lunchtime a siesta under shady palms 

next a swim a shower helps to cool 

now too hot for books I visit neighbors watch the girls 

two cokes later a setting sun prepares me to begin 

thank god it will be dark soon 

BE A FISHERMAN 

Cloudy this morning sun red hot above the masts 

a net planted in the night awaits attention 

a boy and dog in small canoe approach cautiously 

hand over hand nothing    

but then a fish so small it's thrown to the sea 

Woof! Woof! "There goes my breakfast." 

more netting more nothing 

til another small fish it too released 

the dog barks disapproval 

soon the last inch of net retrieved
empty nada nothing 

silently the canoe returns to shore 

Woof! Woof! 
"Nets are for lazy people. 

Now be a fisherman!"

WE LAUGH 

A sunset bright orange 

no green flash tonight 

just three girls 

appearing from behind 

a wave speaking Spanish 

we laugh 

over school 

over the sea 

under the stars 

today was lazy 

hammock heaven
why move 

a twelve year old a mother
 sells me peanuts  

others offer drinks 

others offer clothes 

some offer piggy banks 

for sanddollars 

discovered in abundance 

TO BE WET

 a hawk dives 

retrieves a fish 

sand dollars frolic 

beneath my feet 

crabs scurry 

in and out of holes

no-see-ums are seen 

their presence felt 

more waves come

one after another 

until I'm driven 

to be wet 

DOGS 

Dogs everywhere a pack

running up and down

the beach 

all pissing 

on the same spot 

on the same net 

open territory   

one rolling in urine 

yelps his delight

his feet a silhouette 

against a setting sun 

galloping past 

another hordes 

his dinner

beach-baked fish 

on the street 

another snout explores 

abandon orange peels 

a gangly chicken 

saunters curiously close 

unafraid of vegan canines

THE RECEPTION 

A wedding reception 

open to the village 

to me to you 

shotguns at the gate 

insure a good time 

the music is live 

loud happy 

the dance a three step

Inside firm thighs 

caress a bottle 

to the beat
outside men prepare 

for little sleep tonight

BEACH VENDORS 

they sell everything 

filling each moment 

punctuating every thought 

I hide in my book 

I think invisible 

I see you señor 
there is no escape
they are relentless

You want 

peanuts carvings singing 

You like which postcard 

buen precio para ti 

mi amigo

never asked just once
nor twice our friendship
blossoms like vendors on the vine 

it's work for twelve year olds 

their babies content 

listening learning 

suckle loudly 

drowning out my smile 

and my no

CARMEL WARRIOR 

why did I stop 

retrace my steps 

cross the street 

to an alley of shops 

my armour clanging 

through your door 

to clarify my vision 

to clarify yours 

such energy 

I sensed its safety 

though fearful 

of the moment 

of the risk 

of warriors 

a partnership 

a common path support 

for the journey just ahead

TRAIN RIDE 

The old train stops everywhere 

for children selling food and gum 

the car is packed 

full of smoke 

of babies crying 

lights illuminate the dark 

some sleep others cough 

wrapped in blankets 

children talk and giggle 

the mountain air is cold 

another stop no people 

pausing only for a weary engine

EVER 

I miss my new friends 

surrounded by market noise 

by strange music 

shirt twirled high 

an old man dances 

and sommersaults 

for children 

so fluid his rythmn 

I understand what I see 

will I know what I hear
ever

THE JUNCTION 

Dropped off a crossroad

the junction to San Blas 

thirsty my head pounding 

a man speaks Spanish 

no bus for hours 

we flap our arms 

a pickup stops 

we climb aboard 

we hold on 

tightly 

my hair whips 

my eyes tear 

we blur by bananas 

a car curving in slow motion 

this is not adventure 

this is dangerous

it's over 

I'm alive I dismount 

hot head still throbbing 

hotels at dusk are hard to find 

a six year old quides me
to a resting place

HUNGRY 

Hungry I visit the market 

now closed and silent 

except for one a restaurant 

its emptiness beckons 

what would you like? 

music is played 

we have only beans 

a man dances 

others gather to my table 

lovers kiss we applaud 

soon laughter fills San Blas 

JUNGLE BOAT 

Up at 5:30 before the dawn 

a boat trip through the jungle 

crocodiles fish and birds await 

the day begins with turtles 

and smelly plants 

we are quiet looking for clues 

soon anticipation wains 

no wildlife only the reflections 

of other boats from other times

when creatures were abundant

HOT BODY 

The sun heats my body 

I swim to quench the fire 

the water warm cools little 

indigenous surround me 

mirroring gods colorful and bright 

exhausted a baby cries then smiles 

humid sticky days bind our thoughts 

in sweat sleepiness and visions 

WAKE UP TIME

Kitchen noises illuminate my dreams 

someone pukes away the night 

a fan swirls clothes are washed 

sleep is impossible 

on this trip for waking up

TWO MEN DANCING 

Two men dancing cross the square 

full moon their guide so sweet the air 

and neither knows the other's there 

One is drunk his path unclear 

the other born his twisted peer 

across the plaza each draws near 

they pass opposed abstaining fear 

Trees cropped squared a new years sight 

the evening light so full and bright 

our 2 men greet and dance the night

NEW FRIENDS 

A lazy day 

the breeze so gentle 

it cools little 

hammocked and quiet 

I listen to the ocean 

such color

future vendors visit 

I practise my Spanish 

no gracias 

no gracias 

I share my food 

I steal a glance 

100 new friends 
coming my way

TAXI 

A taxi a collectivo 

a VW bus hard seats 

no amenities no shocks 

the driver spits 

to an open window 

his arm is damp 

he sprays again pedal to the floor 

his shirt is wet 

people get on 

people get off 

they know where they are going 

I will know when I get there

PARADISO 

Ten k's of dirt track the midday sun afire 

our driver cools his heat chugging a Corona 

beached we follow his finger a new friend 

pointing toward the days first meal 

past the putting green of aristocracy 

past sand dunes and abandoned homes 

we walk the ocean sinking softly 

each step heavy our packs bulging 

with things frivolous non-essential 

Suddenly the waters unfold 

big fish cruise the shallows 

a fishermen's dream my stomach growls 

penquins and fingerlings flee the advance 

tails flap the beach explodes with fish 

soon we will feast swing in hammocks 

enlivened by a gentle sea breeze

Ahead lies shade for resting a place to swim

a palapa appears a lagoon
paradiso 

the earth quakes our arrival welcome 

tonight we will sleep well 

DID WE GO 

Two dogs fuck others tongue the air 

scorpion guards circle the toilet 

I bucket a shower from the well 

my senses sharpen aromas tease 

a fish fried and garlic-laden swims in rice 

it greets my plate then my palate

my tutor yawns a spanish sun sets 

the wind stirs the sea stars are in abundance 

a glorious day ends still I wonder 

did we go to war in other sandy places?

AN INTUITIVE RESPONSE 

Up early to venture South 

a hitched ride to a right turn 

yet his story draws me left 

back from where I'd come 

an intuitive response 

to Lazaro and turtles

The day passes quickly 

bananas on the open road 

to a bus stop that doesn't 

a man shrugs patience 

and vanishes in the jungle 

alone at dusk above a river 

doubting my direction myself 

I turn around hopelessly lost

an approaching car swerves 

interpreting my thoughts 

and stops

resume your path come with us 

to a dirt road unmarked

to turtle camp and new friends 

no more bumpy roads today 

REST AND BATHE 

A spring to wash away the winter 

year after year cool and cleansing 

fish breathe and play the pools 

women pound familiar rocks 

only the clothes and voices change 

a slight breeze a fly explores the reeds 

oh the stories that old tree could tell 

I'm tired from turtle patrols collecting eggs 

the stillness soothes my aching body 

I rest and bathe restore my energy 

tonight we midwifes need a watchful spirit

I AM MIDWIFE 

Overwhelmed with joy 

I am midwife guardian a friend 

to turtle spirit leather back 

my planetary partner 

each of us the other 

we share our tears at midnight 

a grand performance scripting the future 

extinction is not their choice 

will it be ours? 

LEATHER BACK 

Black against the sand 

a leather back is lifted ashore 

to track a nest

one flipper digs 

the other widens 

deep as her reach 

quietly she lays 

muscles tense then release 

It's time to mask her work 

retrace her path 

return home return to sea

MY BIRTHDAY 

My birthday renewal of self 

a perfect day and present 

a gift, this living life fully 

a chance to roam intuitively 

to celebrate with joy 

Happy Birthday To You 

I smile a coincidence or plan 

from this radio this moment 

in a foreign tonque 

And on the beach my party

an Englishman juggles 

a French woman speaks Spanish 

a child applauds 

my youthfulness is intact 

I am lucky to be so enlivened 

happy birthday Señor Kent 

EVER 

Church for sunday my humanity revealed 

a cry for love and closeness phones me home 

a solidary warrior seeks renewal 

from poisoned bread 

an orange dilutes its bitterness 

small comfort should I die 

bus fumes spray the air 

another truck found dead 

young guns police the wrecks

vendors syrup sidewalks 

everything for sale flies are free 

streets of dust confuse my path 

watered down by women

leaking buckets broken pipes 

christmas lites blind me for attention 

pigs snort the earth 

tortillas hide themselves well 

roosters confused by night 

doodle at the moon 

will I ever find my way back home 

through this maze of noise and smells 

drugged by present moments 

trusting primal visions 

as I live my meditation 

and do I want to return 

ever 

DRAGON IN MY PATH 

Toothless like a shadow 

dark and stalking 

What do I fear 

his red shirt and hat 

lurking close

alone and lonely 

harder to avoid 

but I do my best 

fearful and repulsed 

I must reach deeper much deeper 

to find love compassion 

for this dragon 

persistant in my path 

BED TO BEACH 

Chirping geckos early shadows 

one step from bed to beach 

a full moon lingers the sun rises 

fishermen launch their day 

they struggle with their boats 

palms windmill hypnotizing waves 

that curl crashing on the sand

PREJUDICE 

The room smells dark he is easy to find 

drunk in his cantina though not alone 

staggering up he screams his hatred 

Americans are whores grabbing a bottle
I sense the danger
I speak in German  

heil hitler german man are you one too 

I visualize my pain I am frightened 

I concede his turf angry and confused 

I cry out for understanding  for balance 

yes my prejudice surfaced for Mexicans 

drunk with words and a single handshake

STRANGE 

Max and I find a new beach 

Puerto Arista muy tranquilo 

no naked breasts to distract 

no loud music to ignore 

Just sea noise and a gentle breeze 

few tourists here the last good beach 

the land green with distant mountains 

fertile soil billowing clouds 

strange Oregon seems close today
here on the border with Guatemala

A CORNER ROOM 

A corner room a moon to view 

quaint and clean a shower 

a week of beach washes away 

real hot water I am ready for dreams 

Kent welcome roar-beep-chug 

every bus every auto drifts by my window 

mufflerless reverberations rattle my bed

all night the greeters come so creative 

I wearily applaud no relief no sleep 

thankful for the dawn I flee the city 

savoring fumes on a bus ride to the border

TODAY'S VERSE 

Guatemalan sunset 

black sands and pier 

a launch is lifted two men and gear 

a shift of weight the constant fear 

while eight men crank Its fate so near 

the sun is orange it's sinking fast 

the bus today was not my last 

packed bus hot sun now both are gone 

the fish the boat it won't be long 

tomorrows verse to continue my song

YEARNING 

Nameless streets 

at night so dark 

dust marks the track 

hotel to park 

vendors shadowless 

offer me wares 

too black to see 

too tired to care 

aimless path 

the shrimp superb 

I yearn for more 

companionship that is

BUS RIDE TO XELA 

The land the sea and me 

fish jump fruit grows well 

I sweat 

pop 

change is eminent 

pop again
 my ears clear 

matching rhymns of the road 

narrow winding 

steep and windy 

the river flows below us 

refreshment for a thirsty bus 

our guide 

climbing to the peaks 

clouds swirling 

terraced landscape abound 

Xela is our goal

 ALMOLONGA BATHES 

I wait for my bath 

hot and inviting release 

liquid minerals from the mountains 

thirty people line the hall 

enlivening the dampness 

colorful village dress dialect 

a narrow beam of light 

a chill is in the air 

it finds me reminds me
be patient

a warm bath will soon heal 

your body 

your spirit 

The temperature is perfect 

I feel sleepy 

my muscles relax 

my hour is finished 

I dress for the bus ride
and cold night air

QUESTIONS 

What does it cost 

I earn .50c an hour 

you must be rich 

I work on a ranch 

what time is it 

do you speak Spanish 

can you teach me English 

where is your village 

many dying in your war 

do you like Guatemala 

I was born her 

how many children 

I have five 

just passing through 

may your journey go well

SPANISH BREAKDOWN 

where did you come from 

How did you know 

you knew when you saw me 

you knew I would blow 

so filled up with spanish 

my mind would be next 

frustrated unhappy 

no progress my best 

but you heard me 

you calmed me 

I'd been put to the test 

it's a wonder that warriors 

ever can rest

EMOTIONS 

Tickling my ears 

spanish words and phrases 

jumbled lines a foreign tongue 

emotions peaked and poised 

awakened they erupt 

a crescendo of volcanoes 

the dragon cornered snarls 

subdued with hot words 

removing the chill 

my fear of seperation 

from other warriors here 

and in other sacred places 

HOME 

I was someplace else 

than where I was 

I was Home 

in these mountains of Guatemala

I felt connected 

to the earth 

to Oregon 

I knew at that moment 

the warrior would return 

DONKEY DAYS 

A burrow leading 

three men with firewood 

moved slowly 

on a rocky path with secrets 

its hard being a donkey all day 

he was going home 

he was hungry 

the trio followed close behind 

they were hungry 

they were tired 

they were laughing 

life ain't easy but it can be joyous

THE BEST OF NAHUALA 

Nahuala a village older than its fruit trees 

a self-contained town with radio station 

broadcasting customs of the day 

every inch of land a farm 

producing sustinence for families 

on hills to steep for grazing 

churches everywhere compete for souls 

no signs or cars to mar their quest 

only cattle roam the street 

feeding on what's left 

there's a creek it carries water 

cleansing water washing clothes 

water driving mill stones 

and irrigating crops 

old dogs and elders guard the past 

yet the future is persistant 

the song is new to worn ears 

young boys in love with music 

mend unraveled tape

strewn cross the land 

eroding culture 

can they save it 

and the best of Nahuala 

SPANISHED 

Three weeks of words 

like butterflies 

cacooned between my ears 

never quite knowing 

will they ever return 

or come when needed 

yes swooping up 

from the depths they ascend 

fluttering and confused 

it's the darkness they fear 

ah sweetly they're regrouping 

pausing in the light slowly in procession 

for the thought to comes out right

SHARING 

Years in waiting chills of night 

today drives out the darkness 

to celebrate the light 

each moment full of living 

the journey feels right 

though the emptiness still lingers 

for sharing all that's bright 

PIZZA'S ARE FOR EATING

He sits alone 

with a beer a book 

and pizza Panachel 

he eats slowly 

one piece then another 

close, by the door 

a dog invisible sits 

silently sniffing 

stalking the air 

waiting 

 a momentary flash
pizza man departs 

something urgent temporary 

the door is small for two 

quietly a slice warm and fragrant 

floats to the door 

chump it disappears 

a second flash
  pizza man returns 

it's a narrow door for two 

he notices the difference 

but logic must prevail 

he gobbles up the rest 

pizza's are for eating 

not for flying
pizza man knows that
I know that 

the dog knows that too 

offering a look of innocence 

our eyes meet 

the dog smiles brightly 

I smile back

THE WIND IS CIRCLING 

The wind it circles 

carrying our experiences 

a tornado uprooting foundations 

so secure your thoughts 

hold them dear 

the wind is circling 

collecting memories loosely planted 

seeds germinate best 

from lessons learned well

THE CAVE OF SAINT MARCOS 

Do you have a prayer 

why no words 

coming only to observe 

very passive this looking 

yet what could I say 

to his spiritual guide 

and theirs
My saints don't smoke
nor guzzle whiskey 
or channel my pain
to another full 
of celestial answers

only candles and incense
are familiar reminding me
of other paths 
to higher powers
that permeate

 this cliffside cave
and others 

next time I bring cigars
unanswered questions 
and an open mind 

ANYONE TO XELA 

Anyone to Xela 

Bus ride back 

jammed packed 

good morning officer 

everyone is seated 

it's the law 

he checks I count 

ten butts hug 

a row for four

enjoy the view

it's not your bus 

anyone to Xela

TEA PLEASE 

Breakfast in El Estor 

tea please 
an early request 

liquid boiled safe to drink 

my meal nearly finished 

he hits the dusty streets 

he has one wish to fulfill 

he has no tea 

where does he go 

who does he meet 

the minutes many pass 

the miles imagined 

through the jungle 

fording rivers 

my fork at rest

my patience to the test
  he returns mission accomplished 

with a solitary bag 

dangling by its string 

I am grateful 

the dangers overcome 

a client satisfied 

I order a second cup 

GOOD MORNING 

Honduras loves me 

hot and sweaty 

I open my door to the day
and a cool breeze 

inviting me to return to bed 

hola señor 

buenas dias señor 

my eyes are closed 

but their identity is known

another offers music
blaring tunes from the sixties 
  invading my dreams
I cough and cough 
now fully awake  

my room fills with smoke 

yesterdays garbage burning below

In one hour on the wings of a bird

I am gone 

It's so absurd 

angry laughing 

but I feel 

deeply today 

bitten by daily life
Honduras 

NEW FRIENDS 

Dinner tonight by lantern light 

chinese soup and tea 

discussing life aspirations 

to the beat of a moonsoon rain 

the bar empty a car garage 

we pay and leave 

three different cultures 

we share  we walk the park 

to coffee in rocking chairs 

and ponder our future 

our new connection

A CRY FOR LOVE 

Tranquil morning 

horses graze the flats 

people eager to depart 

boats and cargo ready 

crack  smack

It's just an oxyen 

dumb for hauling 

beat its face 

crack  make it smart 

smack  back up 

whack do what I think 

my tension builds to anger 

I want to scream 

I fear my interference 

more pain to the oxyen 

the young boy needs love 

his hostility overwhelms 

how do I help him see

the depth of his denial 

himself in the beast 

ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK 

I opened up the door 

a little 

in four nights shared 

I learned this 

I can relinquish control 

being with someone can be lonely 

I am vulnerable 

I am learning patience 

I am growing strong

PREYING THIEVES 

a holy day, a street dance 

push 1 2 3  he's smooth clever 

such inate rhythm 

catch the beat watch the cripple 

pickpocket me  

his daily performance in the market 

a breakfast show 

one to admire 

his subtle moves 

sleight of hand 

so early in the morning 

with tricks that please 

that capture your attention 

expensive theatre

full of intrique 

demanding my participation 

invited again I might refuse

I felt nothing 

I sensed everything 

yet to a victim like me 

everyone's a partner 

Shall we dance 

Yes, he was quick 

It could have been a she 

a team player maybe three 

liberating me completely 

to the day 

to the moment 

of my cash 

There was no applause 

from the locksmith 

from the vendors 

from passersbye 

there should have been 

BERNARD & SAN JOSE 

Bernardo left today 

loving so freely 

sexing it up in San Jose

brooding hens will wait 

for the young rooster's return

Yes we love him 

to tease him 

such energy and spirit 

I miss him 

the void is deep 

not easily filled 

For me a younger brother 

a trusting friend 

an adopted son 

a fellow traveler 

Many faces Bernard 

but no masks 

honest and kind 

caring and curious 

our daily toast 

to a healthy life 

to a healthy planet 

to adventure 

WATCH FOR SALE 

Tired from the road

thirsty for a beer 

I sit sip and stare 

watch for sale watch for sale 

Japanese designed flat 

for rolling up 

for sticking in your sock 

for fighting times 

sold  
an anxious transaction 

see my new watch 

to the bar man 

nostriles deep 

in a boquet of straws 

you can roll it up 

stick it in your sock 

DRIPPING HEAT 

Dripping heat and soothing 

to my bones she flows 

energizing and revitalizing 

forgotten pleasures 

three months abstaining 

wanting yet excepting 

when there is none 

you survive 

you tense up

you scream 

momentary diversions 

cultural shockwaves 

reverberating draining 

a heartier spirit 

perhaps 

three months in waiting 

daily gasps of hope 

and then  
today 

nothing compares 

to her sweet juices 

torrid and steamy 

a source of life 

earth's blessing 

waking in a hot shower 

EVONE & PEDRO 

Six years in Manaqua 

teaching aristocrats 

It's time for home

from embassy parties 

English lessons 

and mannered children 

the car is packed 
full of western views 

ancient books and Pedro 

I'm sick of lazy people 

taking gifts and land 
living only for the moment 

that lack imagination 

that won't fix their cars 

intolerable character flaws 

Then why did you stay afar 

away from St. Louis 

in the midst of revolution 

from Nicaraguan people 

so aloof and seperate 

with your Mayan art 

and a barking dog 

out of control 

pissing in restaurants 

your hands and pockets overflow 

yet what do you offer
and the next time

SHOULD I 

I follow her body 

to buy ice cream 

for the sunset 

should I invite her 

to share it 

no 

why risk a great sunset

SPIRITUAL EXPLORATIONS

Tarot cards read for the first time 

my heart and mind receptive 

they challenge me 

for balance over chaos 

for clarity live intuitively 

for relationships 

healthful and quiltless 

full of integrity 

To San Simeon my first visitation 

can you assist 

accept my gifts bless my candles 

grant me my future 

such a contrast in prayer 

these paths with the same end 

all life flows fed by such streams 

rituals of participation 

hopefulness 

homage to certainty 

an interpretative struggle 

this staying open to the moment 

It ain't easy is it 

THE ROMANTIC 

Is she someone I know 

or are we to meet

I can hope for today 

though I feel complete 

what's missing is sharing 

an intimate treat 

a partner and caring 

we'll know when we greet 

GROTTO AT LAGO DE MONTEBELLO 

My guide of eight 

many paths I know 

pay what you like 

a pilgrimage to the grotto 

smiling present 

he chases a nut 

down a steep a muddy trail 

soccer practice for Miquel 

and for me the spectator 

following blindly 

deeper into the woods 

it's raining I'm alone 

See the bees they sting

see the mushrooms good with soup

see this crab....ouch 

local knowledge bound to please

he races on no time to linger 

a special place the grotto 

a river flowing through a mountain 

I pay what I like 

Miquel now monied content
 a job well done

still time for chasing fish 

MONEY 

Old money Guatemalan 

spent in new ways 

paper money historic designed 

torn taped tatered 

witness to a 1000 hands 

well used abused 

hidden squandered 

money to be changed 

for other money 

money making a living 

traveling 

sightseeing

crossing borders 

money of color 

easy to look at 

money with purpose 

a home a personality 

different from other money 

money making money 

making people happy 

making people sad 

making people sick 

old money new money 

it's the same 

DO IT OFTEN 

Once a month is fine 

if you don't like it 

but if you do 

do it often 

try a starlite night 

naked covered with sand 

it empties your head 

it energizes 

it rejuvenates your commitments

ECLIPSE 

a single star bright 

birds a flock flying frightened 

awake escape midday 

the sunset the confusion 

the dawning of the night 

the jaquar too blinks surprise 

it stretches 

a nocturnal clock amoke  

click click click 

pinhole cameras blazing 

jungle leaves partially decayed 

photograph and sequence 

the unseen the unfiltered 

this birthing an early moon 

full and black 

a portrait in negative space 

highly contrasted edgelite 

designed processed four minutes

an eiry light fire flies 

enveloping the exhileration 

the applause illuminated 

a momentary visitation 

shadow time defined 

a streak accross the earth 

one-sixty miles wide 

total complete 

encircled by clouds
 thick stacked 

a revolving window 
a door beckoning 
witness history 

predicted by Mayan gods 

here in Mexico 
eclipse

WATER AND FIRE 

water and fire 

each opposed 

fire's rage water's flood 

so distinct seperate 

wanting closeness 

wanting acceptance 

wanting we are 

fire and water

polarized threatening 

the rain's collect 

the embers ignite 

preparation 

for our special time together 

WORDS 

Words who knows the most 

discussed argued agree please

words angry over facts unknown 

indians need Spanish learn it

and we'll put down our guns 

ignorance arrogance 

words that disagree 

responding words 

communist anti-words 

harsh words distortions 

a sharp mind twisting words 

heated exchanges 

coldly overwhelmed with words 

diminishing persuasion 

personal power 

right or wrong words 

evil needing good words 

competiting words 

choices of perception

are there any truths
 words 

our existence 

checks against the other's words 

serious words 

provoking serious questions 

and for some 

endless suffering 

over words 

NEEDS 

Needs we have 

to own our pain 

direct our anger 

at the source 

forgiving 

them
 ourselves 

letting go goodbye 

moving forward 

healing healthier happier

WHY IS IT 

Why is it 

so strongly attracted to blond women 

thin and powerful this woman near 

crossing her boundaries 

 cultural presumptions 

I want 

to know her 

in jeans jewelry laughing 

candle light dances on her face 

she's a giving person 

coins to the young boy 

love to the caribe man 

and to me a nervous glance 

at her watch her drink 

our eyes greet 

so brief our evening 

yet he's jealous of our time together 

I should leave 

the heat of my smile

will warm her deeply 

and
Oh God she smokes 

MY BOOK 

Early morning light 

strike 

books shelved high 

directing my grasp 

to one in waiting 

my book 

laid open 

thoughtfully pondered 

revealing pages 

I discover today 

yes more ink 

more adventure

FATHER FIGURES 

Seven months of new friends 

young as Aerin 

together tasting each moment 

a full menu drives us 

brings us to this road 

some older than my years 

all craving validation 

experience some a father 

that's me surrogate dad 

sharing myself yesterdays 

an easy role the older friend 

confidante and playmate

SEE A MOVIE 

When language overwhelms 

my reality I see a movie 

check out lights off 

adventure escape 

solidify dreams values 

feel deeply action sex 

experience beauty violence 

my drug of choice 

a momentary reprieve 

from cultural coping 

cheap travel 
popcorn and true love 

check in lights on 

to a filled room 

Spanish spoken 

no subtitles here 

my reality my movie 

no charge

HOT & SWEATY 

Seeing a movie Mexico made 

people talking Spanish chatter 

quiet please yet more distractions 

fracturing my translation 

the temperature rises 
anger begins to boil

like for the boy 

opening the window 

on a speeding bus 

blowing cold air

Please close it 

Please close it 

Please close it 

power to the mother 

no compromising her son 

I move 

wishing for decapitation 

his head to a passing truck 

me covered with blood 

laughing puking
yet today here 

watching a movie 
Mexico made

relax enjoy the script 

the jabber

LUCIANA 

Small room blue 

cooled by the heat 

why did we meet 

greeting on the water 

like fish gasping at the sunset 

and where do we go 

a bus waits another missed 

a blossoming of friendship 

PONDERING MY FUTURE

A school of young boys 

swim the shallows 

warm blue transparent waves 

well-up crash frothy white 

hammocked for the sunset 

I voyeur guzzling a coke 

a wheel chair a wet ride
beached deep in surf  

 he speculates his odds 

low tide or high tide 

future sunsets 

I ponder my future too

Portland seven days away 

 old friends work other sunsets

 questions hungry for answers 

escort me to my room 
an adobe box
 an oven of mud   

I shower dripping heat

two scorpions observe 

my nakedness 
my stage fright 

while a fan 
cools and dries me 

I dress for the street 

I join the night
still pondering my future

TOURIST TOWNS

Tourist towns 

flying in flying out 

great clothes sunsets 

all you can buy 

new friends kickback 

time on the beach 

no problem speak English 

go on try the ice
sip a margarita 

your once in a lifetime 

live rich credits good 

enjoy the comfort 

a package deal 

three days 

you deserve it 

you'll talk about it 

for months 

for years 

all depends on the ice  

THE DAY I LEFT 

The day I left 

it was raining 

a pickup truck to the border 

music blaring forests green

I was in love 

with her volcanoes towering and powerful 

with her people courageous and friendly 

with her corn her coffee fields 

green terraced to the sky 

with her buses packed 

moving slowly through her hills 

with her jungles hot and humid 

past her cows not budging 

feeding in her roads 

with her colors richly patterned 

with her workers and machetes 

to leave a place 
that touches you changes you

you must return 

 Guatemala 

BUS STOP 

Bus stop 

waiting anticipating 

the next adventure 

I board grab a sit 

breathe deep the miles 

time with new friends locals 

for eating buying bikes 
we stop often 
we piss away the miles 

we change drivers 

stored like luggage 

who slaps the tires 
hits them good
one bus stop after another
to my destination  

new beginnings end of journey 

bus stop

FACTORY FARMS 

Busing Los Mochis to Mexicali 

you see them you smell them 

factory farms crowds of cows 

hundreds thousands 

gathered in a barren landscape 

sickly food soaking the earth 

saturating the air

suffocating passersbye 

with urine and pending death 

COFFEE AT THE GRAND HOTEL 

Nervously I watch the light 

dim my vision obscure reality 

such heartfelt tension in the presence of women 

the possibility that she is near 

my passion never diminishes 

 a woman soulful 

close at hand yet out of reach 

curious like me 

yet fearing that response 

the one causing us to reel 

block our vision the future 

it's a special risk we take 

an invasion of our senses 

dripping writhing wet 

the image burns deep 

I'm on fire it's the heat 

she could cool me

or her
this very moment 

enduring yearning 

secretions of the mind 

its mist shrouding 

 my every thought 

in muscles tensed and ready 

The flute player knows 

the waiter knows 

her friend knows too 

now they laugh and plan 

our meeting our fantasy 

shared in soft light a warm night 

we smile at each other  

she's nervous she's not alone 

I breathe deep 

my hands are damp 

unable to contain my hopefullness 

she's turning red awakened 

to the possibility 

I invite myself we stir the drinks 

music is played 

circumventing what we think 

we talk Spanish 

I my journey she listens 

nervously the end draws near 

her daughter beckons 

she must go she is right 

why allow these early words 

 to spoil our fantasy

CHEEKIES NIGHTMARE 

In the night a moan of fear 

I will not be accepted 

by Japanese people 

changed view the path uncertain 

our way is not being different 

answers come when least expected 

try to sleep rest here 

I don't like sex 

tonight I only offer acceptance 

and for you an abundance 

perhaps tommorrow 

yourself you will accept 

RE-ENTRY 

Seven months the journey 

to here the invisible line 

realities sharply contrasted 

abundant wealth fancy cars 

beautiful women over thirty 

music that moves the blues 

re-entry a border crossing 

click your heels together once 

languages meld 

heels together twice 

cultures blend 

heels click three 

a euphoric transition 

and I'm home

5/21/91  Costa Rica—These are my typical journal notes. 

Rained all day, visited Santa Rosa Natural Park. 

Took off shoes to wade through high water flooding the path. 

 Scorpions, huge frogs, and turtles amused and distracted 

as we slogged through the mud. 

soaking took a bus to San Jose 

clothes started to dry, then kid pisses on bus seat 

that drips onto my leg and boot. 

I was meant to be wet today 

got a rash from his urine. 

And the poem might develop into something like this:

MEANT TO BE WET TODAY 

Some days are wetter than others 

it comes at you from above 

torrential 

It comes at you from below 

it floods your path 

now deep with mud 

and rich with scorpions 

and mighty frogs 

and happy turtles 

that distract your wit 

and your bare feet 

from their journey 

to a bus stop 

on the way to San Jose 

clothes begin to dry 

but the weather 

relentless invades our bus

a young boy floods the seat 

urine trickles 

offered no resistance 

downward bound my leg 

to puddle in my boot 

a  rash develops
reminding me 
not to be pissed

I was meant to be wet today