Friday, October 16, 2009

Let's start that again;
Now that I'm old
Blah blah blah
staring at the waistland
below the belt
that's hitting
like Joe Dimaggio
and
Marilyn Monroe
full count bases loaded
tv is on black and white
wall to wall carpeting
it's almost christmas time
and it's fucking hot out
I need another beer
throw the cans off the deck
we'll shoot at them later

one day he showed me where the pistol was and where the bullets were
and said don't ever shoot this gun, it's old and it might blow up.
The next day after school I loaded it,took it outside and pointed it at a wooden stake next to one of the trees we'd planted and fired.

I'm straying from you.
Something has changed. I can tell you don't love me anymore. I can tell.

He had a bag of weed in his desk drawer. He grew it in the garden between the corn stalks. This was probably a pretty high level security risk- no pun intended. He never smoked it so I kept pinching off of it. I would put some herb,I forget what,in to make it look like it was all there. I think it was oregano.

I could be dying now. I could fucking die. I think about it.

sidekick

Now that I'm old
blah blah blah
now that I've forgotten what your name is
blaggity blaggity blap
haha
blap
what kind of word is that?
onomoetoepiaism
that's when the pancake batter
hits the superhero's sidekick
BLAP!
I'm focusing
but I lost
i got distracted
Span style
and an image
from
a Wayan bros movie
damn smoking all that weed and
crazy ass hair
and bizarre space age guns

any I'm not focusing
I'm drinking a short double latte
and a small Calistoga mineral water and
pretending not to be interested in the young women sitting near me.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

blathering
blithering natty dreadlocking
unfurled
unforgiven
unfestooned
unfucked
worn out
and wily
burning incense to ward
offf bad book spirits
feeling the need
for animal spirit
ceremony
to drive out
bad spirits to
incite to ignite
a pile of burning
leaves
to reward a low slung sun
to break
with tradition and
be tradition
to wear brown
and be red
to break bred
to bust bowie knife memories
to syphon off gasoline
drippings
to rend the future
to mend the suture that tears
the thoughts
of incredibly boring
work day
with no underlying
redemption
with no spirit
no-spirit
is not good
and breaking the tradition by
buying an old car
and driving to LA
just to be in
Santa Monica
and be glad you don't live there
waiting for the ocean
waiting the broken
movie star
trampled newspaper
morning
coffee with
shaking hands
and frayed
nerve
and hoping it will be HOT

HOT HOT HOT cause it never is
any
more and I'll have to get in
a car thta sweltering
and it will be
impossible to sit
on hot plastic

I'm not worried about breakfast
I'm not worried about bacon and eggs and potatoes and
coffee
I am worried about the coffee
my life revolves around coffee and
blue jeans
my torn blue jean
days are fraid
fraid not
frayed knot
I'm fucking bored
seriously

IV. the IVY wraps
around
william Tell
and his bow can stretch
no further
and or might have been before

I'm boring myself now
by stealing

but I want hot
wet humid
night
windy
and windy
and fuck
how many times
can I reinvent myself?
I hear something scratching
something
near the window
its dark out
it's the middle of the night
it's night and
the city breathes and scrapes
but it's peaceful
and not cold
and not
raining
and not LAUREL canyon
and NOT my mom's house
and NOT my father not knowing where he is
and NOT the Lawrence Radiation Lab
and YES it's
closer to breakfast than
dinner
and yes I will
be at work
tomorrow
and YES I'm sick of hearing about babies
but ya know that's what people do
they have babies.