Sunday, February 1, 2015


                                  "Je est un autre."

When you ring:

Don't call me Tuesday
(I am closer to Friday or Saturday
in rolling a streak of sevens).

Don't call me Ishmael
(I am more akin to Mocha Dick,
spermatozoic and hungry for leg).

Don't call me Sapiens
(I have never been wise
and am more of an ass man,
cargoed and Cleanthic).

Don't call me egocentric 
(I am very practiced at vain
and much more moi than je).

Don't call me distant or obscure
(I am only far away by telephone
and obscure in seeming cocksure).

Don't call me a taxi
(I am nearer a tractor trailer
with fourteen wheels and Peterbilt).

Don't call me cruel and heartless
(meet me under the arch of the whores
when the shadow of the bell tower
touches your French doors).

In fact don't call at all. Come.

E. A. Costa  from "If Love", 2005--2015  1 February, 2015 San Juan del Sur,  Nicaragua

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Gertrude The...

Gertrude the
unnatural apple
blossoms every Picasso
once in eleven centuries
when eaves fall at last

Gertrude the
wall-less room
fornix where
where Caesar
where Napoleon
where bloomers

Gertrude the
finial logarithm
stolen chromosome
mitochondrial algorithm
at home in anyone's

Gertrude the

Gertrude the

Gertrude the

Gertrude does not like periods
Gertrude does not like periods
Gertrude does not like periods

Gertrude the

E. A. Costa  29 January, 2015 San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

William S. Burroughs In Mexico City

They are both drunkards he and she
with glasses on their heads and .38 Specials.

He takes aim. He fires. Her head explodes
in shattered prose.

So matriculates the first William Tell
of the Apaches.

With ineffable grace buggering Massasoit,

extinguishing blunderbuss & turkey,

with a broken bough of swamp oak sweeping clean

behind each long-lying footstep of Pilgrim English.

E. A. Costa 28 January, 2015 Liberia, Costa Rica

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Oswald Spengler

                               Ducent Fata volentem,
                               nolentem trahunt....

                                               (Cleanthes ap. Seneca)

Let us resolve an enigma

regarding Mr. Sphinx:

had he never written a word,

if every word writ remained unread--

Faustus would be just as dead.

E. A. Costa (2005-2015) 24 January, 2015 Granada, Nicaragua

Monday, January 19, 2015

Execution Of A Metaphor

Bullet holes in concrete

spattered with red stars,

a blanket of snow below

bleeding its last breath

into the indifferent air.

Do dead souls rise again

when doubly negated?

E. A. Costa 19 January, 2015  Granada, Nicaragua

Saturday, January 17, 2015

The ABC of Reading

                 “The news in the Odyssey is still news....”

                                                               Ezra Pound


Scrawled on the wall

I heard

other words

conspiring heavy breathlessly

whispering softly and the leanest of themselves

making her will known

in silences.



for logic is an ear to many worlds
is the right knock on the green door.



at Constantinople

the pig bones of Venus

Hazard the conditions change &

the deck of fifty two comes down to where
they are placed on the table

eyeing one another

in the land of the blind.

E. A. Costa 17 January, 2015 Granada, Nicaragua

Saturday, January 3, 2015

The Night We Met Pavarotti

We diddled a bit in the rear
of the crowded elevator to our floor.

Then more knee to knee
in the seats.

The performance was part genius
and part the witty vinegar of revenge.

Afterwards he met us backstage,
makeup running with sweat.

He looked up when he saw her.

Then signed his photo with felt pen.

E. A. Costa  3 January, 2015  Granada, Nicaragua