Murder
i killed a duck today.
i backed over it with a
tractor.
i guess it was taking a nap.
* * *
now, i'm a stupid
fucking
duck killer.
* * *
broken duck neck and
flattened duck body.
a squish of red out of
it's beak like the squeaze of
a ketchup packet.
stupid fucking duck.
* * *
i have lost a lot of
positive kharma today.
* * *
i wonder how the
duck feels...
4.28.07
lake city
Shotgun
two men on the side of the
road, one is smoking a
cigarette the other is
scratching his
leg.
their car has a
flat tire.
they look at the
flat tire.
a semi truck going 70
miles per hour cold cocks
their station
wagon.
there is a 300 yard
skid mark, twisted metal, a
loud explosion.
the man with the
cigarette throws his
cigarette to
the ground.
the man scratching his
leg says,
shit.
there will be no
changing of
flat tires
today.
* * *
she sits by the
kitchen window the
yellow sun on
her forehead.
she nurses the baby.
her thin lips straight as
a dime she says
oh, when
the baby sucks.
the baby is
teething her
nipples are
chapped.
* * *
the light in el paso is
a heavy and
hot dust.
the hotel room has
a broken
air conditioner.
the couple are
fucking
again.
he doesn't care how
she cries, she
doesn't care if
he is an
asshole.
it will all be over
soon
enough.
forty dollars on
top of
the nightstand.
* * *
the boy climbed up
the apple tree, he
grabbed a
red fruit.
it was sweet the
juicy meat
was warm the
sun
made me sweat when
i
looked up
at him.
i knew he
would grow
up to
be another
story.
* * *
one moment pulls
the trigger for
another....
4.28.07
lake city
BAD PHONE CALL
i never knew that he was gonna used my shotgun, i never would've thought he would use it like he did, infact, i figured if
he was gonna use it it would just to get a rabbit or a squirrel or a pheasant, something he would kill, and eat later on.
that seemed okay enough.
and even when he asked me where i hid it, i had no clue he would do nothing but just shoot at a stump or shoot at the
ground, it ain't like he was a hunter, fuck i liked him enough, he
was my friend, it would not bother me a lick if he just shot at
the moon.
fuck it, i trusted him.
* * *
and when you call me tonight, and you want to talk to
our oldest, our ten yr old, who is not here, i feel some
crackling in the wind, some bad shit, some ugly feel i
have not yet shaken.
you want to drop off some pictures, some family pictures, so
our child can make a family album.
i feel like someone has just dumped a
load in my mouth.
same story, i trusted you.
* * *
i wish my gun never killed a man.
i wish i never loved you.
* * *
with him, i lost a friend and a gun.
with you, i lost my balls and gained an std.
* * *
i miss my friend...
* * *
i miss my balls...
4.23.07
lake city
Serious Bling
four teeth pulled since september, today
marks the fifth one, today
must be a special day, some
sort of
holiday.
i don't know what's happening.
maybe i am getting less
worldly and more zen.
leaving this body for some
other special place like
subtraction.
* * *
a bottle of vicodan just makes it
all that much better...ahhh...don't
feel a thing. until i wake up
itching like crazy even my eyelashes
itch.
the blood gushing down my
throat, catapaulting me from the
dream of another river thru cleveland the
choking of gary, indianna, the
smog of detroit my tongue speaking
the pennies of
gumball machines.
it's times like these when the
hardest of hard ons appear.
the madness of
addition.
* * *
if i had a nickle for every
semen stain....
2.20.07
lake city
BAD CUP O' JOE
i have a starbucks' card.
it was given to me near 14 months
ago by the grandma of a polar
schitzophrenic child i
helped graduate from high
school.
he was a nice kid.
she wanted to say thankyou. i
appreciated the
gesture.
it was a christmas present.
it was sweet.
* * *
this last week i went to
the drugstore with my
children. they wanted to
buy 48 valentine's cards. it
was that time of
year again for a
seven & a ten year old. i
let them buy anything they
wanted.
of course, they bought the
most
cheapest pack of
massed produced valentines
they found.
they are my children.
we went out for dinner that
night. once
again, i told them the
same thing, order
whatever you want.
they ordered a side plate
of mashed potatoes.
no, i said, really, order
what you want.
they ordered a side of
mashed potatoes &
chocolate milk.
sheesh.
* * *
i used this starbucks' card for as
much as i could, it
was a ten dollar card. i
still had two dollars-fifty
cents on it. but
i couldn't find
anything on the
menu for that
cheap.
* * *
no, i said to my kids. really,
really order anything
you
want.
they looked at me like
i was insane.
they did not believe me.
i urged them on. the ten
year old decided to test me, she
decided to order a
sprite with two scoops of
mint chocolate chip ice-
cream in a float.
i said, cool.
the seven year old
ordered the same thing as
fast as she could before
i changed my
mind
about dinner that
night.
* * *
the owner of starbucks just
sold the sonic's nba team, he
made 70 million dollars.
* * *
i educate teenagers with problems, i
make less than 20 grand a year, but
i got my tax refund back.
* * *
i went to a starbucks this
morning. i
wanted to use the last
two dollars & fifty cents on
my card. for a cup of
black coffee, if need be.
i said, i just need two dollars &
fifty cents of coffee. (no more no
less).
they thought i
was crazy.
it wasn't on the menu.
* * *
my ten year old daughter left
me a heart shaped candy by
the mr. coffee machine on
valentine's day, it
said,
"gentle man."
* * *
last night i threw a brick, as
high as i could, into
the stars...
...it landed by
my feet.
i stepped over it this
morning on my way to
work....
2.16.07
lake city
PORK & GOD
i fried up some pork tonight.
salt & pepper & flour & a cast iron pan.
fried it in lard.
added a butter gravy when it was done.
decided it needed something to cut the heaviness,
so i put
in
some tears.
and a lemon.
* * *
you tell me god is named fred. you tell
me this, because i tell you i don't
have no use for god, and
i don't.
but i might have some use for
someone named fred, why
shouldn't i? i like the names
of humans i
don't like the
names of
gods.
fred and i probably go to
the same bar probably have
driven the same car might
have cried like i did when
we both realized no
one prays to us no one
kneels for our compassion no
one sees our
sadness.
god
just eats our tears and
is an asshole.
fred is just this
guy at the end of
the bar a
miserable
sonovabitch.
he can't save anybody.
he is having a hard time saving
himself.
fred is humble.
* * *
who said this?:
god should be made to sweat &
beg for the forgiveness of
humans.
fred would say this.
who said this?:
of course you believe in god you
act like you do.
you said this.
* * *
sweet baby, i do not believe. sweet
baby, it doesn't really matter, does
it?
no it don't.
* * *
just a bunch of freds down here is
what i'm saying.
* * *
i just feel like saying the word 'fuck.'
* * *
it says so much and describes so little.
* * *
and all i want to do is say
thankyou.
you got a lot of fred in you.
you might've saved my life....
and i ain't the first nor
the last one yr
gonna do that for....
you've used yr fred wisely.
* * *
you've made me a better fred
as well...
12.14.06
lake city
Cat Poetry
(for s.)
i taught my cat how to dance today.
odd enough, it
wasn't my cat, it
was my nieghbor's cat.
my cat stays safely inside at
all times, it refuses
all of the treats i
give her to
persuade her to
go outside.
i come home with fresh
chicken breasts, salmon steaks, &
heavy cream.
no doing. my cat won't
leave the safety of the
satellite tv nor the warmth of
the dryer nor the
glow of the am country music
station i have on, i have
on, all of the time.
my cat might as well be
a furry meatloaf.
she sits on my pillow &
says, "why?, why?, why?"
now this other cat, this
other cat, i often mistake for
my cat,
waits for my car to
roll up, she knows the
sound of the gravel that
my tires churn, knows
it is very much
different than other
tires.
this other cat knows. knows
who i am.
this cat welcomes me home.
she says,
"how ya doing ol' pal, i
missed you."
i say,
"who are you?"
and then she runs off.
(that is the dancing part).
i go inside & make myself
an egg sandwich.
my cat still sits on my pillow.
"why? why? why?,"
she asks.
1.31.07
lake city
Simple Poetry
i am in the heat of
an argument and no
one is yelling.
it is beautifull, i
live by myself.
it is cold outside, a good
toasty 20 degrees and i
live in a shack with
no heat in the
kitchen.
the oven door is open &
500 degrees is the
right setting for me
in this
mickey mouse place.
i'm sweating right now &
i'm talking to myself.
what's the difference between
crackers and cake?
eggs.
this is funny.
* * *
some sort of strange sty has
landed on the edge of my
lower right eyelid. right
on the edge.
it is a perfect place for a
sty to land, there is no way
to pinch it out. if i
pinched it i'd get a couple of
eye fleshes with it.
i've tried the tweezers, but
omigosh, i just can't get a
grip. i've even
tried the needle, but fuck
me, it is so scarey, and i am
so shakey, and it is
so goddamn close to
the eye.
i lay the needle down.
sty looks healthy.
getting more bulbous by
the week. getting strong &
more sty like.
when i walk into the
pharmacy and get medicine
for my children i can see
the disappointment that
i ain't treating this sty.
the girls i meet at the bar are
always looking at my lower
right eyelid. for a while there i
thought they were looking
deep into my eyes.
nope, they are looking at
this orb of pus near my
right eye.
they never call me.
* * *
i gotta give the sty credit,
it found the right bozo to
land on. it might live for
another ten years. jesus,
if i was a sty, i would
pick this exact human.
* * *
there's no argument
here.
1.11.07
lake city
Windstorm '06
(for j.)
his mom liked the crank.
it made her strong, it
made her happy, she was
able to lose the wieght she
always wanted she
was the life of the
night the babe of
the universe.
then she got fat, fatter anyway.
she couldn't figure it out but
it wasn't that important
anyway.
metallica was in town &
one of her boyfriends had
free tickets.
yeah baby, another night to
PAR-TAY!!!
* * *
he was born in 1992, she
gave him up in the summer of
'93, her widowed father took
custody and tried to raise him as
best an old man can.
the kid had some problems, attention
problems, couldn't sit still, had a
foul mouth, & a huge
rage that followed him around
like a snowstorm.
his mom got out of jail when he
was in the sixth grade, sent
him a plane ticket to denver so
he could spend time
with her during christmas.
it was christmas eve & she
never showed up at
the airport.
* * *
when he blows up he
spits, his eyes explode, the
windows tremble, the whole
earth sinks to
it's knees.
and he does have a
foul mouth--and this is
from a onetime crab fisherman--
and the air around him
sprinkles red dots
on the linoleum.
he likes to call me,
fuck you.
and once i called him,
fuck you, too.
nearly lost my job over that one.
* * *
i took a chance, badly calculated, i
wanted him to hear himself, i
wanted him to hear a
part of his lyrics i
wanted him to
see.
instead, he was insulted.
imagine that.
a hurricane happened in the
great northwest
that day.
* * *
a 15yr old boy twisted into
a fantastic shape, his
shoulders became a
pocketknife slicing thru
the rain soaked parking lot, his
rage became a comet that
decimated the earth
around him.
80 foot cedar trees were
uprooted, telephone lines were
snapped, transformers burst
like bombs.
no one had power or heat for
days &
14 people died because they
tried to use their outdoor
bbq's for heat inside of
their living room.
they suffocated because
they couldn't breathe.
* * *
goddammit,
i'm gonna make sure this
kid graduates.
fuck you, if
i don't.
ain't no one taking
anymore shit.
* * *
i'm just saying....
1.8.07
lake city
The Flight Of Birds
mike died last night he
was a drunkard who lived in
a wooden pallet shack behind
the warehouse.
the 80yr old renter of the
warehouse let him live amongst
the broken down vehicles &
the pigeons.
virgil is a nice old
man retired from the fire department his
old man was an auctioneer from
wisconsin virgil has become
an auctioneer living
in washington state.
virgil would give mike odd
jobs would bring him
breakfast in the morning would
ask mike to feed the pigeons.
virgil likes the pigeons, everyone
who knows virgil has decided
to like pigeons
for virgil.
virgil is a very contagious nice guy.
at anytime there might be
a hundred white and grey red-eyed
pigeons behind the warehouse.
waiting for mike to feed them.
waiting for virgil to feed them.
i would feed them if
virgil ever asked me.
he's such a nice guy.
* * *
mike ran an electric cord from
the warehouse to his electric
coil heater in his put
together shack.
i've only seen mike drunk, a
very red-faced man with stubble &
maybe a little bit of
a smell, but he
was nice enough, as well.
he seemed optimistic maybe
because being drunk was his
goal and, what the hell,
at least he had a home albeit
a shack but it
didn't matter
a couple cans of
natural ice &
a belonging to
the life
of humans was
all that he
needed.
he smiled a lot.
virgil was nice to him.
* * *
probably mike was drunk when
the space heater turned over &
the red coils caught the shack
on fire.
mike burned to death
last night around
10:30pm.
virgil feels horrible.
* * *
mike,
god bless you....
12.31.06
lake city
Why Poets Write At 2 In The Morning
check it out, it is
now the end of the
world and there is
no need to
pay rent.
fuck gasoline, let it
grow to 28 dollars a
gallon, it don't
matter no more.
and cat litter, one should
no longer care about cat
litter let the
cat shit on your
forehead.
and those thoughts about
suicide, y'know what i
mean, those thoughts
before you go to
bed those thoughts in
the middle of
the night those
thoughts that make
you scream when you
wake up.
fuck it.
yr a coward.
but it don't
fucking matter
anymore.
the world has answered
your prayers...
* * *
gerald r. ford is dead.
12.29.06
1:24pm
lake city
Side Job
i was using a chainsaw & cutting
off the tops of ornamental pines that
were 20ft tall and it was raining and
it was snowing and i was on a
14ft ladder and the
wind was blowing and i
realized as a 45yr old over-
wieght man i shouldn't be
doing any of this, none of
this, fuck me. i
should be in
paris.
cold & hard & i ain't a
young man no more.
my feet hurt. my
brain hurts. i am a
hurting type of
guy. i
can't even feel
my fingers.
had to keep looking to
see if they were there.
a german shephard kept barking at
the property next to this.
dog hate dog hate dog hate. another
piece of woodchip in my eye. the
ladder shaking, my balance just
imaginary, i knew i
was going down.
asshole chainsaw kept
losing it's chain, whipping
it's 200mph loop off of the bar &
leaping towards my face.
* * *
there was a particular 13yr old
girl that i liked when
i was 15. she was my
nieghbor. sometimes, we
would sneak a kiss, sometimes
we would get so embarassed we
would just smoke
cigarettes instead.
we lived near a lake.
during those hotter than hell
michigan summers we spent
everyday at the lake.
from morning to darkness we
just hung out
in this warm water.
spend time holding our
breath underneath the world
and
looking at each other trying
to make sense out of
our bubbling sentences.
we had no ideal what
we were doing.
we just kept looking
at each other under
the water.
* * *
when you fall from a
great hieght one starts to
think.
first, you think,
uh-oh,
then you think,
i hope this is
gonna turn out okay.
now,
that gravity has
it's
grip,
ya can't do a damn thing.
'cept fall.
you throw all hatefull machines
away from your body.
you try to miss the barbed-wire
fence your ladder is
straddling,
you
wish for
inner peace.
you give up.
there ain't nothing one can
do,
anyway.
* * *
i wore cut-off jeans and my
glasses for a whole summer, she
just had a pink bikini.
we didn't know what was
happening, but
the warm water was
our earth.
one day she brought tanning
lotion to our
summer.
i would only let her
put it on my
back because it
was such a powerful
lotion.
i told her i was not boy
enough to put it
on her.
i spent a lot of
time with my
body hiding
underneath the water.
* * *
45 yr old men should
remember when they fall, it
would only make everything
easier.
it is not the landing, it
is the falling
that
is important....
12.28.06
lake city
Diary Entry No. 382.
a hoover flag is your pocket inside out
waving to the wind
hoover was a president.
he believed industrial "volunteerism"
would work because capitalists have a
kind heart
underneath it all.
that didn't work either.
the depression gathered steam &
the people became insane.
they made alcohol in their bathtubs.
how cool is that?
* * *
a "peacekeeper" is a nuclear missile.
6.11.06
lake city
Diary Entry 385.
it is ten after two in the morning i
closed the bar, met a lot of freaks, a lot
of drunks, some strippers, a couple
of druggies.
we all got along fine.
i bought people beer, smoked
some, was flashed a time or two by
a six foot ll0 lb stripper.
she had some sort of key ring imbedded
into her bellybutton.
i played pool with a hunchback who is
actually quite a nice guy we
were born in the same year.
we liked the same music.
8 8 8
the bar closed up and i
walked 13 blocks home looking
up at the full moon i
saw ernest borgnine's face in
the heavenly apparition and
i missed you.
fuck.
i don't miss ernest borgnine.
i miss you.
9 9 9
doomed to the end i
must be.
but at least the moon looks
pretty tonight....
(ernest has his chops, too....)
7.12.06
lake city
Diary Entry No. 386.
"at the age of six i was tested with
a combination of terror &
quicksilver--the scientist was an
ape that had three hairs pouring
out of her anus and who
used an eggbeater to
measure my tongue--it took
only a half an hour &
then i swam home...."
--ernest rumsky--
4.16.67/detroit
okay, so i'm an asshole &
my ex-brother-in-law says
everyday i lose another friend &
i'm thinking it is 3am and
i sure wouldn't mind losing
him right now.
at 4am i am covered w/a sleeping bag &
on the floor next to me he
is moaning and trying to punch the
tv screen, i cringe and try to
blank out the moans the
destruction.
i guess it worked because the next i
knew it was morning and the tv
was on the floor, a lamp was broken,
& he was snoring.
i stepped over him &
went into the kitchen to
start the coffee...
* * *
quit acting like a flyboy, you
guys are so cool with your flight -
suits and sunglasses going up to
sky with your fart bags.
"fart bags?"
yes, when you go up the
gasses expand and then
you come back home all
depleted and you
kill the president, the
president's sister, &
the president's
puppy.
bastards.
* * *
because you exist, i will
kill you,
gerald morain...
12.3.06
lake city
STEP
i put 22 steel screws in the bottom of
my feet.
i can walk so much better now. almost
like a young man half
my size.
getting to the store on these icey shores, that
seems important to me, my steel bites in
the ice seems important the
feeling that i can still
punch some bozo into
the next ditch makes
me feel good as
well.
but i'm only gunning for one man.
that's not as important it is
just a niggling fact.
i am a reject from some bad
western, it's not important, just
another fact.
i wish there was a two-bit whore around.
not important, just a....
i like that i'm more stable on my feet.
i can kick my ass like the
best of them.
i have 22 screws in the bottom
of my feet.
11.29.06
lake city
Extra Plate
she was married at 17 and
her husband was stationed in texas and
her job as a nurse was
to prep the dead soldiers flown
from vietnam.
she shivers when she tells me
how hard it was to
handle dead men.
rigor mortis stiffened them up and
often, as dead men do, their
penis would be erect.
she had to break the
man so he could be
put in the coffin home.
her husband was drunk when
she'd get home and
sometimes she'd
get a black eye.
35 years later she makes
a mean apple pie, the
flavor cripples me it
kills me
what it
takes
to make a decent pie.
it's all in how you
prepare the crust.
11.25.06
lake city
Adagio for Shit
i slept in today i got
up at 6am and i made myself
some coffee.
it was still dark it was
fall it had been
raining since the day
before yesterday.
in an hour i would wake
the girls up, make them
some breakfast, pack up
a lunch, stand outside on
the porch and
smoke a cigarette.
hope against hope worry
myself dizzy that they
could walk two blocks &
cross that busy street to
catch their yellow bus.
without nobody fucking with
them without nobody
running them over. i
don't know how people
raise children with
out a
heart full of worry.
* * *
the soldiers didn't even
knock they
smashed thru the
door
wearing the wrap-around mirrors &
the armor of robots yet
they were only robots in as much
they had an insincere
bedside manner.
there was sexual assault.
there were personal insults.
they made the children watch
their parents forced to
humiliation.
the mother & daughter were
made to go into their vehicle.
the father was left on
the floor.
one of the soldiers stepped
on an explosion he
no longer would have a
right leg.
he cried for his mother.
it was a fucked up situation.
* * *
i called my work, said
i would be late.
walked the girls to the bus.
* * *
the president of
my country says
it is okay to
torture.
and i have a
rotten tooth--
hurts like hell.
and civilization is
made by
acrobats.
* * *
i plan to make pancakes tonight.
* * *
maybe some whipped cream to
put on top.
* * *
i paid for those soldiers....
10.23.06
lake city
Black Crow
the first day of summer my seven
year old makes a bird nest out of
cut grass and lays it by
my feet like an
offering from
the
innocent.
looks like a bunch of yellow grass.
next to my feet.
i tell her it is fucking great.
* * *
she tells me not to use the 'f' word.
* * *
i tell her it is okay when her father says the
'f' word. he is a professional. still,
she liked that i liked the mess of
dried up grass on my kitchen floor.
her mother will pick her up today and
i will have four days to figure out
what to do with this nest next to
my kitchen table.
should i freeze it? should i put it in a
plastic bag? should i throw it back in
the yard? will
she remember?
* * *
it is noon on the longest day of the
year and i am drunk.
what's gonna happen next?
will i rob a bank?
will i not rob a bank?
will i just look at pornography on the
computer and smoke three packs of
cigarettes?
i'm pretty sure i'm not gonna dig up
the lawn and plant tomatoes.
* * *
my seven year old graduated from 1st
grade today. my ten year old graduated
from 4th grade. i was there. so was their
mother. three hundred elementary school children
and their 600 parents and 200 grandparents and
the odd 157 aunts and uncles and
i had to see the mother of my kids.
imagine that.
she looked good. a tight black dress. i could see
some thigh. crazy striped knee socks. that
made me look for that thigh. some wierd furry
half jacket. and her stupid grin.
she's always smiling. she always will. she will
smile if she's in pain, she will smile if she's
angry, she's insane.
she is not retarded.
and i will fight any motherfucker who says
she is.
she can't help it.
* * *
i'm hearing all of these birds in my
backyard, we got the brown, speckled, small, &
the ones that fly away and their wings
turn into fluttering pink roses.
i wake up my cat who is sleeping, oh
so innocently on my bed, and i pick her
up and bring her to the open door.
i push her out while she's still
yawning and tell her, 'go, do.'
'do it for the tribe. eat some dinner.'
i feel good about this.
it's how i am, i
can't help it.
* * *
now the crows are attacking, swooping, cackling,
and the world is afraid, it's only them from
now on
until
dusk...
the cat runs inside.
i miss my children.
* * *
it is the first day of summer,
something's gonna happen,
it always does
* * *
i'm gonna win the lotto i
feel it in my bones...
...ever the optimist.
* * *
i give my cat a raw piece of chicken...
6.21.06
lake city
Alas
living in this aluminum tin can at the end of a
300ft rutted driveway, the scotch pine on either side, the
blackflies and deerflies constantly buzzing constantly
biting constantly i'm swinging my arms cursing as
i walk to get the mail from the
dented shotgunned pockmarked rusty
mailbox i reach my
arm in and
grab a letter
from you.
i don't like it and
i like it at the same time.
it is like having sex with an underaged teenager.
it is so absolutely wrong. and mistakes will be made.
and i became a father without ever having a child. and
the world sure did look good once. i think.
what was i thinking?
i remember.
i wasn't really.
thinking.
* * *
the whitetails sometime come up to the
leaky outdoor faucet standing up like a
constant drooling soldier in my sandy lot.
they go for the clear constant drops that i
paid good money to drill for, having to
go at least 120ft to the artesian well.
the deer usually come during that grey that
is the 5 in the morning time when the
birds start singing. sometimes i've fingered
my 16 guage and joked to myself they
are like 'sitting sucks.'
this is all i have, these stupid words of
mine, when i curse the horseflies while i
slit the gut cavity and the milkishly white
intestines fall out, plopping on the
ground like a pile of pinkish steaming shit.
this stuff that i do. this waking up and
trying to remember the pain and ugliness and
gruesome dumb. this is how i make myself
breakfast for three months at a time.
i shoot holes thru a living creature and
then i carve it up.
one day at a time.
* * *
behind my trailer is a small mountain of blue &
silver, empty, 'natural ice' beer cans. next to
those vassals sit the small mountain of
denuded mammal bones.
conquests of my consumption.
one has to eat, one has to drink.
one has to hear the motor of my rusty &
white freezer on the cinder blocks while
i read your letter.
* * *
you write,
i am sorry i made you sad before and after
i left you.
you write,
i think you are a good person.
i think,
time for the natural ice.
* * *
i wish i had time for two lifes.
the first for shooting holes in living creatures.
the second for understanding why i did that.
* * *
thanks for the letter i
fuckyou very much....
p.s. i say that with
great
gentleness.
6. 13.06
lake city
One Day Bad, One Day Might Be Good
(for Trevor)
i woke up in the dark.
the bastards kicked pretty good shit out
of me and i could tell my tooth was broke and
and something else in the face and the tin smell
of blood kept choking me and i
coughed for a long time and my ribs hurt and
every cough brought the bright pain in
my endless dark.
it was like fireworks in a coffin.
* * *
hummingbirds beat their wings 100 times a second they
wiegh less than a u.s. quarter and
they can drink a pint of
sugar water in a
six hour period.
they are smaller than a child's thumb.
they have a two inch beak and
a three inch tongue that is thinner than
an albino's eyelash.
they fight each other like hell and they
sound like monster hornets.
they are beautiful and they scare me.
i have two dozen hummingbirds painted on
the inside of my kitchen walls they keep me
company when i drink whiskey at
8am in the morning.
they do not fly away when i vomit in the sink.
they are the christmas lights of my soul.
* * *
after they beat me they dragged me to
some sort of basement the walls were wet it
was cold and there was a window that did
not show any light it was covered with a
metal screen.
the air from the window was refreshing although it
didn't quite smell right, it smelled like something
bad was happening outside of my basement.
like seals being beaten with bats or my
mother finding out i was not the good guy she
thought i was.
she found out i cheated, lied, hurt, and
stole.
she found out i liked pornography.
it was an uncomfortable smell.
* * *
going east from deadman's pass in northeastern
oregon one enters umatilla county the
mountains spread out into valleys and endless
plains and there is a motel on the old
oregon trail next to the "pen" cafe. all of
the workers are from india they
are misaligned in one form or another, maybe
they are missing an eyeball maybe one leg is
three inches shorter than the other maybe they just
have a hard time looking one
straight in the eye.
maybe they suck cock when they should be
licking pussy, maybe they lick pussy when they
should be sucking cock maybe
it don't matter.
maybe they happen to be in the wrong place in
the right time.
maybe it was just a bad nightmare....
* * *
they threw a birthday candle and a matchstick into
my hole last night. i lit the candle and looked thru the
metal screen. the wind was picking up and i
could taste rain. i had to shield the flame, but
not fast enough, it went went out before i
could cough what i felt.
but i saw it.
on the other side of the screen were at
least two dozen dead rats
rotting.
the flesh the red the fur the maggots the death of
small rodents.
i jumped back 8ft and hit my head on
the wet wall.
i slept again.
* * *
i should've never checked myself into that motel.
the desk clerk had a lisp the maid had no matches the
groundsmen knocked on my door at 1am. he
asked me to stop screamining. i wasn't screaming.
i told him, sorry, wrong room, he walked away
unsatisfied, a broken redwinged blackbird in his
right paw. he smelled like dust.
i hated this country but
i knew i had to
travel
thru
its
borders.
it is how things are sometimes...
* * *
the feathers of a hummingbird are
iridescent.
they shine in complete darkness.
the next day
i'm hoping
will be beautiful....
5.27.06
lake city
Spare Change
i have a two dollar peso on my windowsill i
use it like a screwdriver to
take apart the used pistol i
bought in the little nickle.
it is a nice little piece although some of
the blueing is coming off revealing the
cold steel underneath but the
action seems clean & the
7 round clip inserts in the
grip easily enough.
i've never pulled the trigger, that
is for later.
when the moon is full and
i can't stand it no more.
when beer and cigarettes and little
children don't do it for me any-
more.
i am not a pedopheliac. i am
a beer drinker & a cigarette smoker &
i raise little children.
i live alone and all too often i
find the ceiling three feet closer to
my head i find the floor a
lot rougher than it
was before i
find
(when the children aren't here)
that
the television is my closest friend.
it is pretty and it don't smell.
not like me.
i wonder, what my friend, the tv, dreams
about?
it would be nice if it dreams about me.
it would be nice if it got lonely when i
leave the house.
* * *
my ten year old tells me she sleeps with
her mother and her new boyfriend when
she is scared at night.
those are fucked times.
when i think about the world i live in.
i pick up the peso and throw it as hard as
i motherfucking can at the tv.
it bounces off robert deniro's forehead and
nothing happens.
* * *
i won't do that today because i am too
busing making grilled cheese sandwiches &
helping out with homework.
my seven year old scraped her knee at school &
we apply hydrogen peroxide & neosporin &
i tell her not to pick it.
i will not see her wound for another four days.
i'm gonna miss that wound.
i will not be her father the
next four days while
it starts to heal.
* * *
i will be a man that lives alone with a
two dollar peso on his windowsill.
5.2.06
lake city
Bad Thirsty
i ain't had but two beers and
they already showed up...
the kids were in the backyard,
bareafoot & chasing the chickens &
we thought they might be coming over but
one never knows if people are
gonna do what they says.
i sure don't.
i expect people never to do
anything anymore. see,
i've kind of lost that
confidence. nows, i
just try to move thru the
days and sleep the
nights.
trying not to think at all.
but come over they did &
they brought theys kids &
i was certainly amazed.
i hain't seen all those kids
since my wife left me over
a year ago.
never thought i would see
them again.
but my ex-wife's sisters brought
their children over.
and i cried. yes i did. i cried.
to see this old family once again. eight
kids in this bachelor's backyard chasing
chickens and shooting the breeze.
what luck.
when they left they took my two
children back to their mother.
...and than i decided the
rest of the day i will be drunk.
* * *
i like to dream nothing bad
ever happens to families....
4.12.06
lake city
View Statements & Make Payments At Your Convenience
the grass is green and wet and 4 inches high the
dandelions are half a foot tall & the
honey bees are all over our ankles as
my six year old & nine year old are
playing with a foam plane in
the back yard.
i am sitting in a camp chair and trying to
figure out taxes on the laptop.
i am drinking budweiser.
i have to duck the drunken electric toy after every
three throws it
is okay i
am
up for it.
it beats filling out tax forms.
i am an animal.
i pee in the kitchen sink when no one is looking.
people like me shouldn't have to fill out taxes. we
should be confined to small lots where we can
grow potatoes and corn, raise small children to
laugh and be honest, and drink warm cans of
beer while ducking insects and small toys with
propellers.
we ain't hurting nobody.
and we certainly ain't getting rich.
we're just trying to enjoy the smell of lavender bushes...
april 11.06
lake city
Debts, Circles, Surgery, & My Poor Fucking Children
the sinus cavity is connected to
the inside of your nose.
the stuff inside of it is
called mucous.
we produce two pints a day.
when we are healthy.
the majority of mucous
is swallowed and
goes into the stomach.
it mixes with the potato chips &
beer & bits of
chewed up bacon.
then, hopefully, it
leaves us and
eventually goes back
into a landing pad
called earth.
it is part of the beauty of life.
a cycle, so to speak.
from the earth the crops
grow what we need
all the good stuff
like potato chips,
beer & bacon.
a wonderful circle...
* * *
my old man had a great idea.
he would charge us kids for
everything we ever needed.
shoes, luncheon meat, crayons.
he kept the amount in a little
notebook that he called,
"Accounts."
when we were small we got
credit against our debts by
doing our chores like washing
dishes, folding clothes, or
feeding the livestock.
our allowance usually ended
up to be 35 cents a week.
working double time one year i
actually was able to buy
half of the hand-me-down
winter coat from my brother.
my brother still owed long
after the coat was shredded from wear.
my dad's system was ingenious.
after us kids paid for his
funeral and granite marker we
pretty much figured our
debt was paid.
a complete circle...
* * *
if your sinus cavity gets
impacted they do a procedure
known as slice, suck, & stuff.
your sinus cavity rests underneath
your face, under and above your
eyes, it is quite big, actually.
first they make a slit on the
lower part of your forehead, saw
thru the skull, and then they
vacuum out all of the nasty
dried up jelled mucous.
then they put your head back
together with whatever they
have, duct tape, staples, whatever.
and stuff, thru your nose holes,
wadded up pieces of cotton to
soak up the blood.
i hear it is an uncomfortable procedure.
but it is what one needs to do to
get healthy to get back to
the great circle of life.
to get back to the beauty of living...
* * *
it reminds me of my divorce, something
somewhere was impacted and my
wife needed to do something to
get back to the beauty of living.
she did her surgery without telling me
she was sick.
i didn't even know she was a doctor.
she's recovered since then.
i'm still trying to get the cotton
out of my nose.
when i sneeze my forehead splits
open and my grey matter spills
on the world i live in.
all these shitty words i call
poetry eventually become one with
the earth
my children watch amazed, their
words like my own; the
seven year old knows how to say,
"fucking bitch."
i'm gonna owe my kids big time
when they put me in the ground.
at 35 cents a week i better start
working double time...
* * *
gotta get back baby
gotta get back to the great circle...
3.25.06
lake city
Bad Cheese
i had a slab of kangaroo thigh
salted it
left it in the sun
after a day in the desert it
was cured.
i learned that from my grandfather.
he was a fat man
with a red beard and pink cheeks and
and he smelled
like
cheese.
bad cheese.
he beat my mother until
she died and then
he started on me.
i was his mirror i
was his horse i
was his rage.
he hurt so bad.
a lonely scotsman with
a memory that wouldn't go away.
* * *
my grandma wasn't what you would
call a looker but
she did have tits &
a cunt & for some god
awful reason she did let
my grandfather into her bed.
maybe she was retarded,
i don't know.
my grandfather loved her but
he didn't know how. he
thought that maybe if
he put a fence up or
traveled 200 miles round trip
with his pickup truck
bringing her home a ten inch
by ten inch pane of
glass for the front door,
maybe,
maybe he thought that
would be enough for
her love.
it wasn't.
she was 16yrs old and he was near 40
when they met.
she had a daughter, he just wanted
his wife.
she stopped sleeping with him and told
him the infant needed her attention.
the daughter was six years old and she
was still sleeping with her ma.
and then grandma left.
she left grandfather &
left my mother as well.
grandfather and mom must've
looked at each other long and hard
trying to figure out who to blame.
i can imagine those were bad days,
bad months, bad years.
the wind and dust curling around the
fence posts the donkey braying
because of snakes the
ten inch window into
the home all
smudged & opaque.
endless afternoons, sad mornings, the
smell of bad cheese
around both of their heads.
i was born somewhere in there.
like midnight interrupting the
flow of the morning sun.
* * *
the only people i know are strangers
they kill each other for love
they hurt so bad because they
need it so much.
my grandfather died last week
good for him, it
was time for him to stop hurting.
his heart burst his callused hands
quivered his
pecker did him wrong.
in the bush it is easy not to
hurt anybody i
just need to eat some
red meat every three days or so.
satisfy myself with what i kill.
3.21.06
lake city
Conditions Set Forth Herein
Fred picked up the razor blade, wiped
his nose, and started on his
pinky toe.
the only way he knew
to clean his toenails.
he was an expert now.
* * *
everybody gets drunk now
and then.
be it jesus gambling war masturbation or
sometimes
simple alcohol.
everybody gets drunk.
(even fred)
and sometimes they stumble
for the rest of their life....
3.19.06
lake city
Fukmei'mawinner
my luck has turned I
didn't expect it but
turn it did.
fuck me.
I am a winner.
took a bus to downtown last night I
had pocketfuls of cigarettes fist-
fulls of change new shoes and
a flask of whiskey.
I was on the money. I
was shooting for the moon I
was looking for a little luck.
gawdammit.
40 minutes later I got to down-
town my bladder about to burst I
shot down an alley.
found an envelope with the word
"rent" printed with a red lead pencil.
the night's mail gave me 2400 dollars.
holy shit.
who pays 2400 buck a month on rent?
someone, I guess, who doesn't believe
in a return address.
poor bastards, but I knew it
was up to me to
spend this letter right.
yeah, right.
I was up to the task.
went to my old bar the bar where
I used to sneak in my ex old lady when
she was 17 and we
were going to have 14 years, two
children, and a future
life together.
fuck me this
bar is like a
childhood
home.
they don't ask for my I-dee anymore.
all this grey hair my ten year old says
makes me look like a grandfather instead
of a father might
have something to do with it.
I'm just an old guy with someone else's
mail.
a divorced old guy who drinks
all day and smokes three packs a day and
showers with a cup of freeze-dried instant coffee
to make the morning go faster. a dumb
fuck who is old enough to
need glasses to
read the newspaper. a
winner is
what I'm saying.
2400 bucks of love in
my heart what
a shallow heartless
dweeb I have become.
I can deal with it.
a round for everybody in the house!
mr. big is in the house!
drink up!
enjoy!
baby....
* * *
....she is absolutely beautiful, slender, green
eyes, smart as a tack and she
remembers me from the
tree fort we made as a kid in
the oak tree in livingston county when
we were both nine.
no shit.
and she is with her girlfriend and
her girlfriend likes poetry.
and her girlfriend has read my
poetry.
* * *
what is going on here?
* * *
some strange surreal parallel universe where I
was finally given the right door...
...door no. two, thankyou....
* * *
a long crazy drunken night my car
parked halfway in the street when I
woke up and realized I didn't have
my wallet in my pant's pocket and
I ran to the car expecting the worse and
my wallet was on the front seat the
money littered like a green snowstorm on
the brake and gas pedals my
credit cards spread like a poker
hand amongst the snakes of
seat belts.
the doors unlocked.
everything was there.
everything.
* * *
and last night I made love to
two beautiful
women....
....because I am good, lead
a good life, work hard, and
it was my turn.
I got lucky.
lake city
2.25.06
Do Snakes Cry?
there is a slender possibility that i
will kill a snake, save it's head, throw
it in the freezer, and take it
to the labs of university of washington...
...they will find there is an enzyme in
the snake's tear ducts that retreats
all forms of colon cancer...
...there is that possibility.
* * *
there is a day that has my name on it there
is a day i've might've missed here &
there, there is a day that might be
coming soon.
we shall call it happy the
happy day.
on the happy day one
eats all of the seven food goups gets
enough sleep--has a two hour nap--
from 1pm to 3pm, the children do
not fight, the bills are paid, &
there is someone around who
always wants to buy a
pizza or at least a
rental movie or two.
happy day is the
day of
happy.
enough said.
all the people in the house are happy.
* * *
it was kind of a stupid time we
were living in n'awlins and we didn't have
any money
we took an amtrak from seattle to
florida to visit my sister's family and
then we went to n'awlins and
our luggage was stolen.
i had no interview pants.
we had two thousand dollars somewhere in
the great northwest but
the keeper of the money kept forgetting we
really needed it.
it was the bucks we won in the lotto of
marriage and the presents were sweet but
somehow we weren't seeing it when we
needed it.
the mother of the wife kept forgetting to send
her daughter money.
anyways, things kept happening. broke, stupid, not
the least of it.
bad day: we finally got the emergency food stamp coupons & walked the 15 blocks to where we get the real food
stamps and while waiting in line our
pockets
were
picked.
the future mother of my daughters cried &
cried, she felt like she was at the end of
her rope. she felt hungry. i
could tell she wasn't kidding. it
was rather sad. the streets
in midcity n'awlins don't look to
nice, they looked like houses that just
imploded, melted, dripped in fungii, and
were broken.
garbage on the streets and sidewalks, arsoned
homes across the street from each other, the
essence of poverty like a blanket everywhere and
it wasn't pretty.
fuck.
families trying to keep it together, drugsters trying to
keep their scene, poor schtupps just trying to
navigate.
we just wanted to pick up our foodstamps at
the place.
the place. even back then they had guards with guns
making sure everything went okay. i mean,
there was a lot of hungry folk, hungry
for one thing or another....
* * *
kendra was so sad when we found out
our coupons were lost. i wasn't happy
either. but we had flour. and oil. and
salt. and maybe catsup.
somehow that doesn't work for
some people.
we made a cake, it
was deliscious...
* * *
i don't have the energy to
do this thing again i
don't have the energy to
raise the kids from dots i
don't feel so good that
this guy makes strong coffee
in the morning and it affects
max's delicate psyche and
she says it makes her sick.
it is a horrible situation that
i must lose my kids half of
the time.
it is a horrible situation that
i must lose my kids half of
the time and
deal with it.
if i'm the only guy mad
about this situation i
am the jerk.
i must submit.
i must give up.
i must not pulse.
i must relax.
cripes!
* * *
we survived n'awlins too....
lake city
2.22.06
Just Enough
the first naked woman i saw was in
oktibbeha county, mississippi.
she was a sweet girl who raised parrots but
didn't feel a need to keep them in a cage, they
flew like sweet dreams do--
from one room to another--and
sometimes, they left the home
and decided to live with the wild onions &
kudzcoo vines that are the nieghbors of
biting ants and feral cats.
mississippi will do that to you.
she wasn't trying to be sexy or
anything, she wasn't trying to win me
over, it was just late at night, the party
long since over, and it was a sweaty
night.
for golly gee she was working on her
master's degree and i was a 16yr old still
getting on with my high school diploma in
those cold lands of michigan.
just visiting down south.
she took off her shirt and i
knew it was as easy for her as
brushing her teeth.
tieing a shoe.
buttering toast.
sneezing.
she was absolutely beautiful and
the nicest girl i ever met in my life.
* * *
on interstate 55 going south from memphis one
makes a left on state hiway 82 thru winona and
after a mile or two, one will find a decent
catfish cafe. i usually walked this part and
could only afford the coleslaw but i
swear there is some catfish to be had.
* * *
spent a lot of time on this road.
rolling cigarettes and playing the harmonica.
swatting flies and getting thirsty.
jacking off in the ditches.
waiting for the ride to her home.
wishing this heat would stay with me
forever like the poison ivey rash almost
did.
goddamn, i think i was happy.
my thumb out and humming something a
teenager would hum.
like greensleaves or
bohemian rhapsody or
jimmy crack corn or
rudolph the rednose reindeer.
the air hot the wind warm the
moisture getting into my brain the
steam of southern green.
* * *
the world smelled beautiful &
i was in no hurry.
anything that could happen would
be totally cool for the
boy i was...
...i didn't care if i ever saw a
bare naked girl again.
i'd be okay....
2.14.06
lake city
Mouth, Luck, Give, & Sip....
the grapes are hanging on the wall the
cork rolls around the table the
wooden chair is on it's side on the
floor smoking
a cigarette...
there is a rip in the screen window the
rat gets thru at night, seems
to dance with the knocking toilet pipes and
that old two-step-hum-in- harmony
midnight refrigerator,
ah christ,
jerry is at it again, he sleeps
like a frozen beagle at night two
spilt beers form a wet spongey
pillow on the carpet underneath
his long grey-haired head and
he fucking snores...
...as i step over him to
get to the bathroom at
4:37 in the morning.
the rat running from the
medicine cabinet with a
tylenol in each hand.
* * *
as a kid i used to believe in jesus
as a kid i used to believe in the virgin mary
as a kid i used to believe in santa claus
i never believed in the easter bunny because
i wasn't that sort of kid
but i did believe in the green hornet.
the green hornet was a cool as
shit guy who drove a black car had
a black leather jacket and wore
sunglasses while he somehow beat
the lowlife's at their game of avarice and
treachery. i don't remember how
he did all of that stuff i
was four years old. all i
knew was
that he was cool. he
had all the goods. and
a good sound track.
* * *
i live in a cartoon.
i drive a '69 black ford ltd, have
a black leather jacket, and got some
cool as shit dark shades i
fight avarice and treachery my
own way. i
drink whiskey but
don't drive drunk i
spent 200 bucks at the
strip club last week but i
knew i only fed my hunger for
beauty not my hunger for
soul.
i bought my kids and myself a
deluxe badminton set and it is
waiting in the trunk of my cool
car for when they are done with
their half week with their mother.
i am planning ahead.
got grape juice and new toothbrushes.
got granola bars, cereal, & milk.
most of the whiskey is drunk up.
i'm looking forward to helping my
kids with their
homework.
* * *
i only remember the four steps of
love but
i believe
in time
the other three steps will
come back to me.
i have faith the
sound track will follow....
2.12.06
lake city
I Washed My Hands
sitting on a microwave typing on
a foot stool i gave
my coffee away today.
damn, i forgot tomorrow is
another day.
but that's alright i
threw away my cups and
dishes yesterday.
i am getting more naked
as i speak.
and my knees hurt.
but no more.
i won't fucking kneel no more.
it's a new year and
despite it's artifice i will
use it as a tool.
fuck me, i'm a gambler and
this luck should turn around soon
i lost my nuts last year lost
my wife lost my mind lost
my family
nearly lost my life.
lost thirty pounds found
poetry.
i got some hell to pay
but gonna do it smart not
like some bum i'm
gonna do it like
i know.
y'know, w/style.
* * *
y'know, i didn't commit one
single felony last year and
i had every single reason to
do so.
i didn't kill anybody i
didn't hurt anybody.
and in my heart i knew
i should have.
but i didn't.
either because i was a
coward or i was to busy
trying to hurt myself
nevertheless i
didn't kill
one
stupid
fucker.
i'm kind of proud i am not
in jail right now.
* * *
last night i went to a party i
arrived late about one-thirty in
the morning i was hoping
most people would have left
by then.
it was a party my friends
were having down at the end
of the block. i watched the cars
arriving from my window i watched
my kid's mother arrive with my
children and her boyfriend.
i was invited but i did not
want to commit a felony.
i stayed home and watched the
party from my window.
i tried to stay interested in
poker on tv.
blood looks bad on carpets.
for three hours i thought about that.
and then i said, fuck it.
* * *
and i went over. of
course, my wife and her boyfriend
were in the kitchen and
my brother n law kept
blocking my way.
i went in thru another door and
i had an epiphany.
and i acted on it.
i told the boyfriend to talk to
me and we sat on the couch
together and i told him why
i thought he was an asshole.
but in a gentle, thoughtful, professional
way. i made him listen while
he tried to interrupt. and i
got it out. he
started to
talk and
i
walked away.
half hour later i
looked at him still
at the couch and
he was crying.
i wished my kids,
happy new year and
i walked home.
* * *
fuck me,
sometimes i do the right things.
not often,
but often enough.
it's a new year....
1.1.06
lake city
Pinch Me
i dreamed my children were happy.
they played in the mud and their
clothes were a mess their shrieking was
the combo of hilarity and absolute joy they
kept hugging each other and they
knew everything was alright.
the sun came thru the misty rain and
the kids decided they wanted to go
back to the house and eat collard
greens & pork fat & then take a
nice, long, restive nap.
they were waiting for santa clause.
maybe they would get a potato for
christmas maybe it would even
be cooked they
were so excited.
cartoons and candy all day, stay
up all night, throw the cat around
the furniture-less living room in a
friendly game of kitty volleyball.
i have to admit, their excitement was
contagious. i longed to spike that
pooping cat for months. i was hoping
that santa would pay the mortgage &
leave a nice amber bottle of maker's
mark next to our christmas lit
toaster we decided this year
to festoon with yule tide spirit.
check it out; the toast pops out, knocks
off the pink construction-paper star cut-out,
the cat jumps three feet, and attacks
the ornament, and my two girls and i
laugh and laugh and laugh when
the cat lands in the
saucer of margarine.
we pick cat fur out of our teeth when
we eat our cooked potatoes but we
don't mind a bit, it
was worth it.
cooked spud and margarine is,
simply,
quite fucking deliscious.
never forget the salt...
* * *
when i dream i remember
everything when i am awake i
forget some things the
kids though need me
need me
to dream they
need me to
be happy.
the burden of holidays is in
real time, but, i
have to admit,
kitty volleyball certainly
appeals...
12.22.05
lake city
Clown School Graduate
there were days when the sand
stung so bad my eyes would bleed yet
if that was not bad enough there
were also those days when the rain
would not stop my skin would
wrinkle from toe to elbow my face
would turn into a yellowish
praddle.
that was a bad year, i tell ya.
* * *
ringling brothers' college of buffoonery
located in sandusky, ohio.
what a joke.
well,
what a pratfall actually.
a slapstick, a shenanigan, a humdinger, a
pancake, a wacked out harbinger of
nutty things to come.
why didn't i go to henry ford trade school
like my dad wanted? at least then, i'd
have some skills besides whiteface, light
the fart, and running in place.
it is true, i can flip a mean burger, six of
them at a time. around the world and over
& under. thru a burning hoop if
i needed to.
still doesn't get me laid.
enough.
i fight depression daily.
* * *
the one class i had was special taught
by a sixty-three year old lady who
had a nice body. she taught us ballet. ah,
now that is special. try finding size 12
ballet shoes at k-marts. i used my sister's
tights because i was broke and i
think it was the first or second class when
we had to do some bar work in front of
a 20 foot tall mirror that caused
the crotch to split north and south my
package clearly reflected to
all those other clowns.
holy macaroni.
what 
