they the two don’t know mytrue travels or intentions. which is my right fromsince birth to change up my accentas I please. a smooth dinner floor to sitand report back to Cobra Commander. penny at bottom fountain lands on another pennyI ask what the difference isbetween Buddha and Krishnaalready knowing but wanting to hear from…… Continue reading Travels
Tag: Poetry
Sidewalk Talk
shells of spiritualismautomatic society gone off the hayany assurance is backpeddledyou now see the sidewalkfor what it isshe looks at me with eyesfrom since infanttheir stereo booms like thatthere go the hubcapsthey drivedon’t even knowcapture the heartof man as a boy flying a kitevulnervulnerability vulnerable switch-offsall the bills slip into your postten openings all of…… Continue reading Sidewalk Talk
Ink Poison
winter couch neck crick heater fritz damn. morning growl shoulda grabbed cereal beforehand. cold as as a snowflake they fall and don’t stick on our town. melting novel figures disassembled by sunshine by pounding wind. frigid winter will power challenge. late night radioshow dedicated to writing with courage. lightning bold friend. life changes, boiled eggs.…… Continue reading Ink Poison
Delusions Of Famine
where you been?it’s been awhile we pittle with grammar pilesis it okay if I call you…call me what?no answerremoval certaintomato soup lingering ondrunk as skunk breathare you safe to be?you remind me ofa toy I once had as a childare you trying totell me I’m a child?think harddon’t sit still for too longdon’t feel you…… Continue reading Delusions Of Famine
A Line
cooling bright space of warm yellow canary 1960s driers at the spotcool words with me I’ve come this far along ya better think twice because I’m maybe only just a little nicer than you can beI’m the decider nowstingseach idea is a break away, a runaway hitthe beauty of an underground movement is its sincerity,…… Continue reading A Line
Turnabout by Bukowski
she drives into the parking lot while I am leaning up against the fender of my car. she’s drunk and her eyes are wet with tears: “you son of a bitch, you fucked me when you didn’t want to. you told me to keep phoning you, you told me to move closer into town, then…… Continue reading Turnabout by Bukowski
Not The Mat Shot
at what point can you not make it to the car? at what point can you not make it to the car, pragmatically? yes, this is a drunk poem at what point do you sigh and take the needle off the record ‘cuz all is getting carried away? the ice cubes are merged into a…… Continue reading Not The Mat Shot
Meters
there is a strangerin the alley down thereI can hear him coughso I can relate…he turns on a strangewhirring little radio and digs a shovel some then more radio…what the hell, I wonder. is he checking meters?what meters?it is Sunday and I’mtoo lazy to get up and see
Terrible
I’m in a terrible placeyou cancome stay with mein this terrible placeand you will wakeup on your first day spitting on its floor it will turn your stomachit will burn your friendsit will ruin what you bring with youit will spoil your foodit will rot your soul it will twist your wordsit will wound your…… Continue reading Terrible
Glory
hell of a story what can be dreamt up andfulfilled in theworld of ten dollar buffetsand one dollar storestraffic cops stingraysphotographsa story that fallsout of the cupboardsoh that old thing?and it’s past butstill tells out wella strong runnerhard to know what to share what is gonna catch firehold interest hit or miss a B-sidewhy not…… Continue reading Glory
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