week of July 16 - 22, 2007

A Man With No Teeth Serves Us Breakfast | I'd Like to Bake Your Goods | Stolen Mummies | Brendan Constantine is My Kind of Town
Up Liberty's Skirt | Feeding Holy Cats | Mowing Fargo | I'm a Jew, Are You? | Lizard King of the Laundromat | I Am My Own Orange County
Paris: It's The Cheese | Poetry Super Highway | Judaic Links | Rick's Bookmarks | Cobalt Poets
E-mail Rick | Other Cool Rick Stuff / Upcoming Readings | Who The Hell Is Rick

A 12-pk Ago the World Was Clearer She's got the "warm temperature" for Sal, and as Spring kicks in to full swing that "warm temperature" is only getting warmer. Look! At the green poles in bloom. And look! With just the right amount of imagination, and travelling 65 m.p.h. doesn't hurt either, the garbage that collects along the highways become clumps of wild flowers. She is warm on Sal's lap. They have already made love but this is the first time she has ever sat on his lap. Sitting shotgun in the cab of his best friend's truck, the two lovers are necking on the same clear bottle of beer. Dean is racing down the highway. Dean is just glad his friend Sal made it home in one piece and finally, found himself a girl. The vehicle Dean is barreling down on it's tires spit out rocks that become butterflies before ever hitting the windshield... K.I.A. High up in the rafters above the earth a love affair unfolds she is an angel she is an angel of mexican ascent skin spun from sugar she rolls a half-decent joint and hands it to him him is a soldier him is a soldier of mexican ascent he fires up the joint he hits the joint they smoke the joint passing the joint back and forth high high high she helps him fit into his wings she giggles he doesn't have a clue how to wear the wings he looks at her he smiles at her a dog tag wedged between his teeth having been kicked up between his two front teeth makes her want to cry he holds on to electrical conduits as he walks along a steel beam and he jumps from the upper atmosphere punching holes out in cloud after cloud after cloud after cloud plummeting plummeting spiraling out of control until Sycamore Street breaks his fall until Sycamore Street breaks his fall later on in the evening at the top of the Picket Post Mountain she stitches buttons onto his soul right next to the Iraqi Freedom Campaign Ribbon and above his purple heart she stitches buttons onto his soul they drink tall cans of beer and they make love at the top of the Picket Post Mountain the sound of glass shattering fills the air as bottles break beneath the weight of the sun setting

Somebody's Gotta Somebody's gotta get up off the fine italian leather Somebody's gotta kick that notion of time/space conventiallity out on its round ass and when she screams through the door .......................it's raining! spit through the keyhole. Somebody's gotta access what's frozen in the artic Somebody's gotta read some Rimbaud or sing some fiddle tunes Somebody's gotta recognize this very dismal and dizzying aspect piss on the fire hose lick the cop oust the german shepard jump in the ocean Somebody's gotta... No, no Not me, man I had to work til 4. Plagued by Roots A belly full of ..............sliding strings You'd like the song she sings in the passenger seat of the car I am ill with moving and weighted down The dog needs to be fed but there's no food here by the brick mantle dizzy with the ..............company of lecturers and motivators stuffy, ain't it? get some water there is a certain amount of purple oozing over the cliff we call sea plagued by roots and still ........nowhere to grow The State of Things Now While reading about a few different poetry presses, the front left corner of my head (brain?) began to ache with the pecking of a blackbird's mallet I'd like nothing more than to be helicoptered in to a valley or a flatland covered by pines and invisible from the road A Man Who Walks Across Insterstates He'd always whistle & whistle & whistle & occasionally sing some Billy Holiday while he cleaned the tile and now he just says hey.