Wednesday, February 29, 2012

grand avenue

shattered like my brother's thumb
when a crap mouthed little immigrant boy
brought a bat down on the tip
split the skin and the tissue swelled out
swelled out like a big human tissue balloon
and the blood and the broken finger nail
reminded joey the pig-nosed kid from down the alley
reminded him, he said, of when the man at the sausage shop
put the meat scraps with little bits of bone or hoof
into the sausage grinder
that's what it reminded him of,
sausage as fresh as sausage can be
pink and perfect,
phallic and full of blood and bone and my brother's thumb

and it was shattered when I saw the last person in the world
the last person in the world
the last person ever to draw breath
drawing breath as he stood erect and stretched that skinny frame
and the apparently other last person in the world
put several .38 wadcutters through his thorax
thorax always sounded like the name of a detergent
except his bled and wept that life-blood
and little bits of shattered bone – i believe it was rib
and it looked a little like my brother's thumb
when the great balloon of bloody tissue and bone fragments
made their way to the light of day
and that thing called a thorax
kind of deflated like a, well, yes
like a balloon
that's what it did

and then finally i walked around that mall
or whatever it was
and i was tripped out on pills or booze
or maybe just tripped out on fear
that is what it was
tripped out and wandered around
and walked and walked and walked
no great balloon of human tissue 
or wadcutter penetrated thorax
like detergent or not like detergent
asian lady with the eggroll sing me the blues)
stick it in hard
stick it in hard and hot
stick that eggroll in my greedy gluttony mouth
as a tissue balloon swells with each breath
and the hole in that thorax weeps blood and bone and sweat
weeping but never crying
as the tissue balloon
reminded joey the pig-nosed kid from down the alley
reminded him, he said, of so many things
that's what it does

and so I walk past the asian lady with the eggroll
singing the blues
and I find that fat pasty pale german man with the beer stein
selling crack and wurst and worse to little kids and widows
hiding the crack in his anus and a little bit in his eyelid
just for good measure
he lifts the stein to show me a watercolor of his anus
painted on the bottom
the bottom of the stein, of course)
and he winks at me and a little bit of crack 
falls out of his eyelid
falls onto the counter where i pick it up
and use it to buy some
sausage as fresh as sausage can be
pink and perfect,
phallic and full of blood and bone and my brother's thumb


Train car trekker hoboing to Hoboken

Dodging dustbowl dustbins

Getting out of Dodge with weathered boots

Torn coat, torn emotions

Escaping the derelict of duty deputies and boss yard batters,

Dented pocket watch outwitting

Lefse eating pickpockets

Pickpocketing under the radar, under the stars, over the top

Scoped out with dragon breath, dragging his butt

Out of breath

With any guise that keeps away the guys

In the iron clad carts caging coal chips,

Chips on his shoulder, chip on his lip

In the small comfort of the cattle carrier

In the warm straw and dung on the B & O (bed and odor)

Fighting off the battalions of losses and rotting livers

Among the rotting livery

Shattered mirror of a broken spirit, broken bones

Falling off the car

Dancing to that miracle song on the tracks

Under the tracks

Under the radar, under the stars

To that new beginning on the other side of the tracks

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

off the coast

withering wondering westering days
lost days of empty pockets
and an empty mind
captain jerry, stuff that hardscrabble oleoresin
in a winter-scammed dream
pale puffy rodeo queen
fresh from the rodeo of middle america

(you could pronounce it ro-day'-o if you like)

captain jerry, hold back a word, hold back another word
hold back every word
leatherback sea tortoise skips along and makes a traffic button
while the dolphin does that
(you know i'd say it because I have to say it)
fancy-pants dance
(i say it every time and i love it)
smile and hold back a word and drink your drink
(they think it is lemonade, of course, poopsie-doodle)
(your mother used to call you poopsie-doodle,
but you do not remember it, so i will call you poopsie-doodle
on behalf of your mother's ghost)

the pale puffy rodeo queen has hair and skin and lips and chins
and chicken-fat arm folds and cataracts and that unfortunate skin condition
the same as your mother used to have
the same as she used to have until death gave a reprieve
well thank God for that.


spin that wheel, spin that bottle
spin that puffy pale rodeo queen
spin her until the chicken-fat arm folds turn all green
and the ceviche colors the water
where a leatherback sea tortoise skips along and makes a traffic button
and captain jerry can stuff that hardscrabble oleoresin
in a winter-scammed dream

(and you could pronounce it ro-day'-o if you like)

Friday, February 24, 2012


Bumper crop of zydeco roosters

Peddling their herbs and whey

Way back, wayward, looking for a way out

Arm wrestling for that dish of dried corn at the counter

Hen pecked, hand picked

Huskers and hucksters

Husky, well-bred do-rag bearing baron

Of that sordid, sleek smiling way

Smooth hair, smooth face, smooth talking,

Sweetheart of a cocky crow

Crooning that sweet Cajun ballad

Under the blue moon

Swinging between babes bouncing on your knee,

Bouncing checks, bouncing bouncers

Bouncing back from the fray

Be-bopping with the slug in the jukebox grin

Picking ice gators out of his teeth with a blade of swamp grass,

Boasting butter and crawdads

With a swig of turnip juice

All tuned up, nose turned up

Nobody turns up

Except those flashing lights looking for that flashing smile

Flashing something like a bracelet in the brake lights

As he doo doodles and pays his fare all the way.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

This is Only a Test

This is a test of the emergency literary system.
This system is established to maintain literary diversity
in the event of a public literary emergency.

Had this been an actual emergency
this message would contain directions
to where diverse literary materials could be found
and information on how long the state of emergency might last.
Copies of Naked Lunch and the Subterraneans
will be air-dropped to isolated communities if needed.

If an actual emergency should arise, 
please maintain calm and stay in the appointed 
literary shelters until the "all clear" sounds.

This has been a test of the emergency literary system.

This is only a test.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Sleepy Eye

The birch bark canoes and canvas sail tents

Are docked for truth

Water your horses, water down deals

Gnats and mosquitos pestering and sucking blood while

Patience runs dry and you do unto others…

Ceremonious moments

Flowery words, flowery fields

Prairies of deception

Rattling beads, rattling nerves

Draw your sketches, draw conclusions

Speak up! Speak your mind without acting like a fool

For all who do not agree with us are fools, right?

Offerings are left as bait for the rushing river

Bait for a signature, rushing for a contract.

Weave blankets, weave tales, weave smiles and condescension as

Drums beat, eardrums explode from silence.

The eagle cries

As a sacred feather falls to earth.

Friday, February 17, 2012


chuckle-head go ahead and raise that flag
raise a toast as well
raise a toast to the opening day of aspiring human season
wherein we all try our best
to try our best
as long as our best does not need to be our best

if you hold that door for that roto-rooter man
his dodgy little fingers and his dodgy little thumbs
might not smear God-knows-what
upon the handle
but then, that would be trying our best
and we might not need to do our best in trying our best

would you shout a little louder, dear chuckle-head?
shout a few decibels louder, for I can nearly hear that air-compressor
over your dulcet tones
shout, you chuckle-head, for that would not require you to try your best
just to try
try something, anyway

as the zephyr winds roar through my colon I am reminded of that one man
that one man who made the foolhardy mistake of trying his best
and making sure that his best was his best
he gained the laughs
of the noodle-suckers
and the chip-dippers
and the cheese-melters
and the chicken-plucking church-goers
they all laughed
and hung him out to dry
because his best
had been his best

so anyhow, chuckle-head, go ahead
and raise that flag
and raise a toast to the opening day
of aspiring human season

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


You slimy ol’ scoundrel!

Keep comin’ after me

I dare ya! I double dare ya!

You sleazy ol’ geezer

Tryin’ to rope and outwit me

And my buddies

You got a few of ‘em and

I’m still mad as hell and there ain’t no forgivin’

I’m gonna kick your teeth in and give your arse some scars

You relentless sucker!

I hate your pigeon liver guts

And yer billy goat tenacity

(Learned me that word from a preacher in a camp once)

Keep comin’ after me like them spikes in a gear

Back to back pot shots

Missed again! Ha!

You squirrely varmint

Y’almost got me this time!

I reckon you’ll catch up with me one day

Until then, piss on you…Death!