Suddenly Down
I say hi
to this gal I know
I ask how she is
doing
she says,
"Fat, but happy. I've been on
Prozac for two years."
I say,
"Oh really? They've been
trying to get me on that shit for
a while now but I won't
do it. So,
what's it
like?"
she says
that she
has no sex drive
and I say
oh that's too bad and she says
no
that's
great
because
guys
can't fuck her over
anymore
"That's cool." I say
she
smiles
and
walks
away
Food Shopping
we were cruising down the
canned vegetable isle
and Lorraine says,
"Did you get any water? How much do you have at home in the
refrigerator?"
"'Bout 3 or 4 bottles. Just like I usually have. Why?"
"Barb says there is going to be another
big earthquake tonight."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah."
"So how does Barb know?"
"She read it in the Rocky Horrorscope."
"Well hell, if Rocky Horrorscope was right about that one, then
there would be mass pandemonium in the streets. Everything looks
pretty calm to me."
a small bit of laughing erupts like a happy volcano farting at
the sky
relieving any
tension
trying to build a web around the
moment
forests of hungry thought
devour me with a
gentle rain
I looked at Lorraine and I felt
lucky
we checked out at the 10 items
or less
cash only isle with
milk
a bottle of wine
a can of green beans
and some bread
the night came like a tender giant
and the earth was alive and
content
inside of its skin
the sun was sweating on the other side of the world waiting to
enter
singing
it was a time to rest
Lorraine was asleep in the
bed
next to me
my eyes closed
I fell into
sleep
I was lucky
Cunt Pussy Dick Cock Fuck Poem
"Hi, my name is
Jim. I am doing this show on
HBO and I was given your name and
told that you are an
erotic poet."
he had left a
message
on my
machine
a few weeks
prior
but I just
blew it
off
"I am sometimes accused of that, yes."
"Well, we do this program where we
showcase poets with
background and
images.
So, what is your stuff like?"
"Well, I dunno. Why don't I recite a short piece
and you tell
me."
I rap off a short
sweet
and to the
point
set of words
which include
slap
bite
and
bleed
"We have certain perameters here at
HBO
and we really have to draw the line at
violence and. . ."
"Well, it wasn't about violence. I have another piece about
obsessive fucking that is
3 or 4 minutes
long."
"Yes, well I need short pieces."
"I don't have anything for you then."
"Well, maybe you could take my number and if you know of anyone
that writes
erotic poetry
you could have them
give me a
call."
"Yeah, sure."
I write down his number and
hang up
I am always suspect of anything that dares to call itself erotic
bad television and a
t.v. dinner can be
erotic
honest poverty
a crusty towel by the side of the bed
a street corner in the middle of the night hinged on
a slight rain
fog on empty roads that
stretch forever like a
tense lion
kitchens or
bathrooms are sometimes
especially
nice
flannel nightgowns
and cold cotton sheets charged with anticipation as couples conspire
to
satisfaction
but there is generally
very little to arouse in
poems
poets or
poetry that carry the warning
erotic
like drinking
light beer
or
decaf
they often have little ability to
stimulate
inebriate or
liberate the
senses
There Is A River
there is a cheerful ignorance
a chance meeting and
luck like gold that cannot be
mined or
stolen
a common atom
a dance
and stars that trick the
water with their
certain
magic
do not wash your wars in it
take your holy rituals to the
precious fountains built by your
agencies of fear
press your
wine from the fallout
and drink your
bitter victory
for yes
there is a river
a giving river that will
sing you safely
a river of
light
final
fast
and
free
where you can
disrobe
and leave your casual sadness
walking sideways at the
shore
meet me there
whoever you are
and we will agree to
swim it
together
Acropolis of Absent Fathers
it was early morning late
I chose to ignore the negative twinge
as I peered out the peephole of my apartment door and saw him
staring back
with his
lost smile and
leaping
eyes
he was the young son of an
acquaintance
a slacker type with
psychic
knife
stuck in the
back of his
weeping
karma
he was looking for a place to hang or
crash
for the balance of the
night
I'd a recent
bad experience
playing good neighbor Sam
and picked up this guy I used to know
standing in the rain like a
pathetic wet rat
and there was that twinge
that feeling
midnight
Christmas Eve in a Hollywood grocery store parking lot
alone
the rat turned out to be a junkie
leaving tears of
blood spattered in the sink of my
bathroom
where he'd popped
sticking me for
40 bucks and the
shirt off my
back
I'm a real soft touch
and now
this guy standing in my
doorway
what a case
complete with
Christ complex
God thing and a powerful
hatred of
women
his old man was a con
so was his older brother
when I met his mother
she was at the time a
self-styled
Marxist
recently crossing over and
shifting gears to become a
born again Christian
raising a grandson for the
younger sister who was working the
streets on
crack
with a little
gang-banging on the
side
the kid had learned his lessons well
turning the shit inside down and
upside
out
I didn't have the heart to pitch him the no room at the
inn
routine
so I
let him
in
thought maybe I could
reach the kid and help pull the
funky monkey off his
back
he had been seen down at the local coffee haunt just days before
escorting a styrofoam cup full of
dead snake around like it was a
pet dog
telling folks he was
God
and this night was no different
his energy was up
and he was in good
form
my 6 year old son was asleep in the
other room
so I stayed up with my
wide eyed
blistering prophet of
negative
ha ha
for awhile
thinking
I might
reign his ass in a bit before I left him alone
he started in with his well oiled rap about how the evil women
had fucked up the planet and soon was onto his bit about
being
The Almighty
"Man, I'm gonna drain all my blood and fill my veins with liquid
gold and then I'll become the God I was meant to be and everybody
will
know. And I'll be able to fly man. I'll
fly above everything and
everyone
and I'll be
God."
"Wow, no shit. Yeah, ya know, I have dreams about flying sometimes."
"No man. I mean fucking fly dude. For real. Dig. It's time ya
know? I mean, I'm talking power, real fucking power
ya know,
and nobody will be able to
fuck with me
'cause I'll be God man. I mean, I am
God,
it's just that nobody
knows."
his eyes were reaching
his mouth was moving
his mind caught somewhere
betwixt and
between
he was heading over the edge of a
flat world with
no
brakes
I was up with him until about
3:30
maybe
4
I set him up in the front room with a few sleeping bags
about
5:15
something stirred my ass awake and I
wandered out into the
front room
half
dazed
the fanatic fuck had
cut his wrists with my one dull steak knife and cannibalized the
T.V. antenna
plugging
the frayed bare wires into each of his
wrists
he had dismantled my red lava lamp
and smeared the warm gooey
lava wax all over his
forearms
my C.D. player whacked out on some sort of emergency broadcast
weirdness
while this goof is grooving
big time
to static and snow on the
T.V.
there was a sprinkling of
blood weeping on the
carpet and he was
flying
high
I walked over to the door and
opened it
"All right, get the fuck out, now!"
"But man, you don't realize what I've done. . ."
"I don't fucking care. Get the fuck out of here, NOW!"
"You'll regret this when you realize what I've done. This is an
important discovery. Your apartment is sacred. I've become God!"
my son comes stumbling in rubbing his eyes
I guess he had heard me
debating with the new
God
about the merits of a good
miracle
"Get back to bed Spencer."
he didn't hesitate
he knew from the tone of my
voice
that was exactly
what he
should
do
he turned heel and
exited back to the safety of
the bedroom
we build our shrines to the
strangest possible
things
somehow
there was something
tragically correct about him
believing
he was God
plugged into the
T.V. and the stereo
lavulating to the energy
and bleeding into the
cheap brown carpet of my
apartment
he disconnected with my place and
vanished
it was the last time I really spent any time with the boy
I called his Mother the following day and told her he was going
over and
to get him some
help
the poor fuck
there were no answers
just
revolving
doors
in and out of
county jails and
madhouses
so tonight
years later
the phone rings,
"Hey S.A.,
you hear about Shelly's son
Craig?"
"Oh no, don't tell me. . ."
"Yeah. . . he took off all of his clothes and jumped off an overpass
onto the
freeway and
killed hisself."
"Ah hell. That's fucking sad. I'm not surprised."
"Me neither. His two biggest heroes were his Dad and his older
brother, and they were both fucked up man. I guess that's what
happens. Maybe he's not mad anymore,
maybe he's at peace."
"I agree. If there's peace in dying,
he's with it now,
ya know."
he had succeeded in building one last shrine
an Acropolis where
lost sons worship
absent fathers and
dreams of
flying
but he flew too high and had
offed himself in the
process
melting in the intense light of the truth and tumbling
Earthward like a
naked limp sack of
potatoes
pulling the twisted knife from out of his back
and stabbing the pavement with all the passion and heart
that makes the miracle of
living
possible
finally escaping the
desperate
deep
darkness
dancing in the
sometimes
unbearable light of
love
