wings

Throw them back at me again
Sidelong glances
Slithery smiles
Your blue.

Throw me into yesterday
When time
Seemingly still
Fled by on quiet wings
Spun from the dreams
That we whispered to each other

poetry from 1984

"Two Lines or More"

It's me now, my neurosis
My doubts, I don't have any
Chopin is no doubt
The day was okay
The junk and the lines
And Marley and spliff
And lovers dedications
And what's in my head and nose and throat
And the soliloquy
And spiders
And dogs
And scorpios on bicycles
And of glowing lanterns
And tortured lives
And grinding jaws
And Bolero twice
Because of the cultural implications
And the lightning left
And the snow in March
And the junk in March
And the tryst and the travesty
And the lie
And the near forgotten and abandoned
Make it true
Save the Scorpio
But don't self sacrifice
Sleep

*****

He's the poet who knows it
Grooving up downtown bus stops at night
He'a a loser and he shows it
Chasing blue skies out of sight

Walking down side streets all day
Forgetting the way it used to be
Breezing up highways and byways
Always wanted to see free

Feel like a kite in the sky in the rain
Seeing the others just come and go
Technically denying the pain
Solving it all with some blow.

"I miss my comic books. I left the last of them behind the last time I ran away."

"Ran away? From what?"

"From life."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"Not so good. The next day, when I woke up in my new apartment, a few blocks away. There life was. Lying there in bed with me. Facing me with that inane grin on his face. 'Mornin' sunshine!' he exclaims to me, 'What are we going to do today?' he asks. I say, 'Why are you asking me for? You're life, motherfucker. You ought to know.' Life was like that. Never even missed a step. Just kept right up with me. That's how I ended up here.

happy new year

"I hate dieting. It's so hard. I really resent people who do not diet. Either because they don't care how they look or because they have great genes and are fabulous and don't need to diet."

"What?"

"I hate dieting. It's so hard. I really resent people who do not diet. Either because they don't care how they look or because they have great genes and are fabulous and don't need to diet."

"Oh my god."

"I know. Right? I used to be really beautiful without exerting any effort at all. I just woke up and was fabulous."

"What happened?"

"Fuck you. you're supposed to say, 'no dear, you're still fabulous' and I'm supposed to say shucks and blush. Then you buy me a drink and we talk and talk and eventually go home together and you love my apartment and my dog and my papier mache curiosities and we have great sex and then, tomorrow morning I make a gourmet breakfast and we talk some more and you can't stop thinking about me for weeks and weeks and when you finally call me, one month later, I can't remember who you are."

"Then I remind you and you lean against the wall and twirl the phone cord on your fingers and giggle a little.

"What's a phone cord?"

"Never mind."

"So...do I look fabulous?"

"You're okay. I guess."

"Hmm."

"No, you're okay. Buy you a drink?"

"I really was once beautiful."

"I'm sure you were. Drink?"

"I'll have a gin and white wine."

"Seriously?"

"A gin and white wine for the once beautiful, once fabolous, once elegant and once young me.

"You mean fabulous?"

"What did I say?"

"Fabolous."

"Then that's what I meant. I meant it with a Spanish flair. It's not nice to point out mispronunciations. Order the drink."

"I already did."

"How dare you refer to me as "okay".

"I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. When are we going home?"

"I haven't even gotten your name yet."

"I'm not sure that's gammatically sound, what you just said."

"How would you correct it?"

"Oh god, I haven't the faintest idea."

"Well anyway. I don't know your name."

"A man once shoved a swizzle stick up into my penis."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"A man once shoved a swizzle stick up into my penis."

"What's a swizzle stick?"

"Never mind."

"You can't do that. I think I know what that is. Is that what people stirred cocktails with in the olden days?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What the fuck? You brought it up. It's one of those novelty drink stirring things isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Why in the hell would you let somebody stick something like that up your dick?"

"Don't judge me. You don't even know my name."

"Wow. Dude."

"I know."

"So how'd it happen?"

"I'm not really sure. I was asleep. I was having this dream. Like, you know, when you have this dream you gotta piss real bad? And, finally, you wake up and you've really got to piss? Well, I was having this dream that somebody was shoving a swizzle stick up into my penis and, finally, I woke up, and somebody was shoving a swizzle stick up into my penis."

"Holy shit!"

"I know. Right?"

"Then what happened?"

"I pulled it out."

"And then?"

"I fell back asleep and started having the exact same dream. I woke up and, sure enough, the dude is doing it again. So, I yanked it out and yelled at him. Asked him what the fuck he was doing shoving a swizzle stick up into my penis. Oh god, it was one of those long, square shaped ones with a chesspiece on the top, green plastic. So tacky"

"Oh my god! Holy shit! What did the dude say?"

"He said something about I shouldn't have passed out and how he needed me to fuck him right then or I needed to leave and I told him I couldn't get my dick hard and I was gonna call up the cops or burn his drapes unless he drove me home and where the hell were my fucking clothes. Well he handed me some old torn panty hose and a clutch purse. I looked at them and said what the fuck is this and he told me that's how he'd picked me up. It was then that I realized I had no idea how I'd come to be there and that I'd never lain eyes on this man before in my memory. Turns out, he had picked me up at this very bar. Bought me several drinks, took me home and shoved a swizzle stick up into my penis."

"Wow."

"I looked into the clutch and found my driver license and house key and asked him if I had shoes. He informed me I did not. He grudgingly drove me from the west side of town to my house. Once in the car, of course, I was very polite and quiet. I did not want to be put out on highway 59 with nothing but a torn pair of panty hose and a clutch purse. But when we neared my house I asked him why he did it. He told me I was making a big deal out of it, that I should just chill, that I was being a pussy. I told him that it really hurt and he shouldn't have done it without asking first. He was so completely an asshole about the whole thing. When we stopped in front of my house, I thanked him for the ride, hit him on his right cheekbone as hard as I could with my left fist, grabbed my clutch purse and got out of the car."

"Well, it's been nice talking to you. Good luck with your diet."

"Thanks for the drink."

"Don't mention it."

"Still want to know my name?"

"Not really."

"Well, thanks for the drink anyways."

"Yeah, I'm gonna go sit over there for a while now."

summer 1964

"Mahm, why is the jello shaking?"

"Eett iss askaered."

"Why is it scared Mahm?"

"Eett iss askaered bekass eett noes you are goingg to eat eett. Efery time you putt een your spoon too eett, eett iss like eett hass been gettingg stabbed wis a shovel."






"Feennish your chello."

fuck you larry king

So we just had a hurricane.

I got my lights back on day before yesterday.

I was watching larry king last night.

Anderson Cooper comes on to do a promo for his show, which will follow larry king.

Anderson Cooper shows the iconic video from hurricane Ike, of the lone house on Bolivar, surrounded by the debris of nearly every other home on the peninsula. Anderson Cooper says something about how he will have an interview with the owner of that home coming up next.

And larry king, larry king, that fucking piece of shit lizard faced talking colostomy bag, larry fucking king cackles and says, "Ha ha, that guy sure doesn't have any neighbors, haha." In a tone, like, you know, life is way better without neighbors. All private beach and shit. Right?

No, larry king, you fucking asshole moron piece of shit, that guy sure does not have any neighbors. You know why larry king? Because a fucking hurricane came by and blew all the neighbors homes and belongings away. You fucking dirtbag serial trophy wife fucker. You fucking stinking colostomy bag of a shit hole ( I know I used the colostomy bag comparison earlier in the post, but I really, really think he's just a thin membrane of dried mucosa completely filled to bursting with mossy, liquid shit).

It's not funny, larry king, you fucking Alzheimer poster boy. People lost everything they owned and some lost their lives. And you sit there in your Depends undergarment, stinking up a studio with your rancid breath and laugh about how some guy now has the beach all to himself. haha

I have friends who had homes there. That was a community. And it was wiped out. And you laughed about how some lucky guy had no more neighbors.

Fuck you larry king.

Fuck you larry king

Fuck you larry king.

And fuck you cnn for keeping this brainless lizard man, who doesn't even know who his guests are any more, on the air.

Oh yeah, fuck you larry king.

With all due respect and from Uncle Walt.

ps. fuck you larry king.

Absent friends

He rolled past the bar, not looking sidelong into the picture window but concentrating self conciously straight ahead. He turned right two blocks past and came back around the bar again about two minutes later. Still rolling past, not looking sidelong into the picture window but concentrating self conciously straight ahead.

He had been doing this for about two hours, fifty-five trips around before he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine.

I had been sitting on the other side of the picture window, drinking Budweiser and smoking Marlbros and looking out the picture window at the man driving by in the dark green 1964 International pick up truck. Waiting for him to park the goddam truck. And after he parked the truck, waiting for him to get his ass in the bar.

Register sat in his truck and lit a joint and smoked it slowly and thoughtfully. Taking deep hits and then sucking in the wisps that emanated from the lit end. When he was done he flung the fat roach out of the window and onto the parking lot. He stumbled out of the truck and into the bar.

I saw him approach the door from the picture window. He went to the far end of the bar, where there were no people and sat. I picked up my cigarettes and beer and joined him.

"So what's up?" I asked.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, "I got busy doing some errands and couldn't make it over on time. Sorry."

"It's no big deal, what'd you want to meet me for?"

"You want a bump?"

"Sure."

He handed me a baggie with about a half ounce of coke in it and his keys. I went into the bathroom and didn't take too much. He was testing me.

When I came back out and handed back the baggie he looked closely at it and put it back into his pocket.

"Come up to the office with me." he said.

I followed him out the back door, across the patio and into the out building that constituted the office. The owner of the bar was inside at his desk. Across the room from him was a very cowed looking young man on a couch. I recognized the guy as someone I had gone to middle school with.

Register looked at the owner and asked, "get anything out of him?"

The owner just shook his head.

Register looked at me for a second then he looked at the cowed young man, "I've got to be out of town for three days," he pointed at me, "you pay this man three hundred dollars today, three hundred dollars tomorrow, and three hundred dollars the day after tomorrow or he will kick your fucking ass." He said it very quietly and very pleasantly and the cowed young man on the couch began to cry.

He looked at me and said, "You pay," he pointed at the owner, "this man six hundred dollars by day after tomorrow or I will kick your ass." The cowed young man on the couch began to sob.

I nodded my head and Register and I walked back into the bar.

"You want a shot?"

"Sure thing man"

"You don't mind that I did that do you? That I put you on the spot like that?"

"No. Do I really have to shake this guy down? And pay up?"

"Hell yes you do."

"Can I have another bump?"

"Sure."

I did another. We sat in the near deserted bar and didn't talk for a while.

"Hey Register. How come you was riding around the block out there for two hours?"

"I was listening to my Allman Brothers tape. You know, I listen to those guys and I just get lost in the music and lose track of time."

"Two hours?"

"You want a shot?"

"Sure."

"Hey bartender, round of shots."

The bartender sauntered over. "What you want honey?"

Ken looked at me, "Cuervo." I said.

"Two Cuervos and Schnapps for everybody else."

"Can I have one too?" the bartender asked.

"I said everybody didn't I?"

"I's just making sure honey."

We did shots. Then we just sat not talking just drinking our drinks and smoking our cigarettes and looking toward the picture window.