The lady at the check-out line
At the supermarket
Asks me if I want paper or plastic.
“Nah.” I said.
“I don’t need any bags...I’ve already got two under my eyes.”
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Birds On A Wire
The birds hung heavy
Packed shoulder to shoulder upon a wire
Strung between two telephone poles
On Route 22 Westbound.
A corridor of high trafficked
Suburban shopping sleaze.
Sleepy’s, Super Saver Liquor, Red Tower...
Every once in a while
A piece of trash would be carried in the wake
Of a passing semi
Flapping by
Amongst the grit and exhaust
Twenty feet up
Like a drunken bird bretheren.
The wire actually
Dipped a little
From the weight of
The Blue Birds
Pidgeons
Crows
Seagulls
And Sparrows
Marking a heavy dark line
Across the short stretch
Of gray sky.
One of the crows
Passively shat out
A yellow and white mixture
Of piss and shit
While cocking his head
To his cohort
On the right.
“Gotta light?”
He asked
Cigarette fidgeting
In his rostrum.
“Sure.”
The first bird
Held his wing up to block the wind
As the second bird
Struggled with a Bic.
The smoker
Took a few quick pulls
Getting the tip glowing.
He let a relaxed plume
Of smoke from the Camel Light
Escape from the nares
In his beak.
“Thanks.”
He said.
They watched the steady
Stream of traffic
Below them.
An ambulance
Slowly
Snaked it’s way through the
Eastbound traffic lane
Sirens alive.
By the time
The ambulance had passed
The old crow was almost
Halfway done with his
Cigarette.
“Jeezus! That gave me a fukkin’ headache!!!”
He stated.
“Could be worse.”
The other commented.
“Could’ve been you inside that ambulance.”
“True, dat.”
He replied laughing.
“Hey, Joe...speaking of trauma...what do you think about marriage?”
“Things ain’t great at home and I was just wondering...”
A bird on the left leaned in closer...
“Hey! This is a private conversation!”
The crow snapped.
“You wouldn’t want me to accidently burn you with my cigarette?”
Joe waited
For the third party bird
To get back to minding his own business.
“Fuckin’ Finches!”
He commented.
“They’re ALL nosey bastards!”
“You probably wouldn’t want to hear what I hafta say about marriage.”
He went on...
“I mean, if someone would have explained to me that monogamy, actually means
infrequent sex, if any...I would NOT have gotten married. You hear other birds make
jokes about it, but this shit is real!”
“I know what you mean.”
The first said
Following his words
With a thoughtful draw
On the fast-burning
Butt.
“Im trying to hang in there for the kids...but, I AIN’T getting ANY.”
“The lady drinks too much and gets loud and sloppy.”
“All’s we do is fight. If you could have an orgasm from fighting, my balls would be empty.”
“When I get home from work...I’m just putting out that day’s fires.”
The bird to the left
Accidentally
Leaned into him again.
At that point
The crow purposely
Pushed his cigarette
Into the feathers
Of the finch.
“Hey! Watch it!”
“I told YOU to watch it!”
The crow rasped.
“Now you knocked the cherry offa my cigarette...”
“I can’t help it if this wire is so crowded.”
The finch offered angrily.
He brushed ash off of feathers
Inspecting for any burn damage.
“Look”
Said the crow...
“I haven’t gotten laid in years, and when I did...it was sub-par...so, I’m not in a good mood.”
“Don’t fuck with me!”
The finch turned back
To what he was doing
Ignoring the crow
Acting nervously.
Traffic was starting to build up
Due to an exit
A half a mile up
That congested
Into a shit-show
At this time of day.
Horns started interrupting their conversation.
“She used to be beautiful...up for anything at anytime...but she’s really let herself go.”
He rambled.
“Then there’s all these hot young chicks out here...makes me want to get back in the game!”
“We ain’t dead yet!”
Joe rallied
Puffing up his chest.
“There’s some Chinese partridges running an Oriental Spa about a mile east of here that
my friends have told me is a jack-shack. We should go over there sometime soon and
get a massage.”
“Ha! What sweet relief that would be! I’m in. How much you think?”
“$40.00 tops. If she’s REAL nice ya might think about leaving a tip in case you wanna go
back.”
The first crow smiled to himself.
Outward
It wasn’t very noticible.
But inside
He was smiling.
He could handle forty bucks.
“Yo brother...can I get that light again?”
“Sure.”
Joe said.
Packed shoulder to shoulder upon a wire
Strung between two telephone poles
On Route 22 Westbound.
A corridor of high trafficked
Suburban shopping sleaze.
Sleepy’s, Super Saver Liquor, Red Tower...
Every once in a while
A piece of trash would be carried in the wake
Of a passing semi
Flapping by
Amongst the grit and exhaust
Twenty feet up
Like a drunken bird bretheren.
The wire actually
Dipped a little
From the weight of
The Blue Birds
Pidgeons
Crows
Seagulls
And Sparrows
Marking a heavy dark line
Across the short stretch
Of gray sky.
One of the crows
Passively shat out
A yellow and white mixture
Of piss and shit
While cocking his head
To his cohort
On the right.
“Gotta light?”
He asked
Cigarette fidgeting
In his rostrum.
“Sure.”
The first bird
Held his wing up to block the wind
As the second bird
Struggled with a Bic.
The smoker
Took a few quick pulls
Getting the tip glowing.
He let a relaxed plume
Of smoke from the Camel Light
Escape from the nares
In his beak.
“Thanks.”
He said.
They watched the steady
Stream of traffic
Below them.
An ambulance
Slowly
Snaked it’s way through the
Eastbound traffic lane
Sirens alive.
By the time
The ambulance had passed
The old crow was almost
Halfway done with his
Cigarette.
“Jeezus! That gave me a fukkin’ headache!!!”
He stated.
“Could be worse.”
The other commented.
“Could’ve been you inside that ambulance.”
“True, dat.”
He replied laughing.
“Hey, Joe...speaking of trauma...what do you think about marriage?”
“Things ain’t great at home and I was just wondering...”
A bird on the left leaned in closer...
“Hey! This is a private conversation!”
The crow snapped.
“You wouldn’t want me to accidently burn you with my cigarette?”
Joe waited
For the third party bird
To get back to minding his own business.
“Fuckin’ Finches!”
He commented.
“They’re ALL nosey bastards!”
“You probably wouldn’t want to hear what I hafta say about marriage.”
He went on...
“I mean, if someone would have explained to me that monogamy, actually means
infrequent sex, if any...I would NOT have gotten married. You hear other birds make
jokes about it, but this shit is real!”
“I know what you mean.”
The first said
Following his words
With a thoughtful draw
On the fast-burning
Butt.
“Im trying to hang in there for the kids...but, I AIN’T getting ANY.”
“The lady drinks too much and gets loud and sloppy.”
“All’s we do is fight. If you could have an orgasm from fighting, my balls would be empty.”
“When I get home from work...I’m just putting out that day’s fires.”
The bird to the left
Accidentally
Leaned into him again.
At that point
The crow purposely
Pushed his cigarette
Into the feathers
Of the finch.
“Hey! Watch it!”
“I told YOU to watch it!”
The crow rasped.
“Now you knocked the cherry offa my cigarette...”
“I can’t help it if this wire is so crowded.”
The finch offered angrily.
He brushed ash off of feathers
Inspecting for any burn damage.
“Look”
Said the crow...
“I haven’t gotten laid in years, and when I did...it was sub-par...so, I’m not in a good mood.”
“Don’t fuck with me!”
The finch turned back
To what he was doing
Ignoring the crow
Acting nervously.
Traffic was starting to build up
Due to an exit
A half a mile up
That congested
Into a shit-show
At this time of day.
Horns started interrupting their conversation.
“She used to be beautiful...up for anything at anytime...but she’s really let herself go.”
He rambled.
“Then there’s all these hot young chicks out here...makes me want to get back in the game!”
“We ain’t dead yet!”
Joe rallied
Puffing up his chest.
“There’s some Chinese partridges running an Oriental Spa about a mile east of here that
my friends have told me is a jack-shack. We should go over there sometime soon and
get a massage.”
“Ha! What sweet relief that would be! I’m in. How much you think?”
“$40.00 tops. If she’s REAL nice ya might think about leaving a tip in case you wanna go
back.”
The first crow smiled to himself.
Outward
It wasn’t very noticible.
But inside
He was smiling.
He could handle forty bucks.
“Yo brother...can I get that light again?”
“Sure.”
Joe said.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
‘Buying’ Graveyard Dirt
I am here
With some thin silver
Mercury dimes
And a flask of whiskey
To procur the services
Of an ancient spirit
Or two.
After passing through the cemetary gates
I skip to the left
Touching smooth stones with my fingers
Letting those that have crossed
Speak to me
Reading epitaphs in the blue moonlight.
Those that seem to have potential
I pause and sit
Dropping small flowers
As an offering.
They can hear the coins jingle
And they can smell the liquor
As I am
Spirit-led
Through the plot of the dead.
Tonight
I plan to dig the dirt
From the head of a thinker
The heart of a lover
And the feet of someone strong and obedient.
Ambitious
I know.
But
Tonight
Is warmer than others.
The moon is high
Casting short black shadows.
With some thin silver
Mercury dimes
And a flask of whiskey
To procur the services
Of an ancient spirit
Or two.
After passing through the cemetary gates
I skip to the left
Touching smooth stones with my fingers
Letting those that have crossed
Speak to me
Reading epitaphs in the blue moonlight.
Those that seem to have potential
I pause and sit
Dropping small flowers
As an offering.
They can hear the coins jingle
And they can smell the liquor
As I am
Spirit-led
Through the plot of the dead.
Tonight
I plan to dig the dirt
From the head of a thinker
The heart of a lover
And the feet of someone strong and obedient.
Ambitious
I know.
But
Tonight
Is warmer than others.
The moon is high
Casting short black shadows.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sprinkling The Hot Foot Powder
I laid down the
‘Drive Away Powder’
Walking backwards
All around my house.
Every doorway.
Every window.
I need to rid myself
Of these disturbing phantoms
That keep me up at night.
A mixture of
Red Pepper
Sulphur
Salt
Snake skin sheds
Essential oils of Black Pepper
And other herbal extracts
Powdered bones and insects
Anvil dust
Mullein and Sage.
A hoodoo secret concoction
Made by a well trusted Mambo
A few blocks away from me.
I placed your footprint dirt in a paper bag
On which I had written your name 9 times.
I included bits of your hair
That I scavenged
With
Nine pins
Nine needles
And nine nails.
I tossed the mixture over my left shoulder
Into the moving water
Of the Delaware
And walked away
Without looking back
As a waning moon
Was drawn into the black sky.
Poor river
As if it wasn’t polluted enough.
‘Drive Away Powder’
Walking backwards
All around my house.
Every doorway.
Every window.
I need to rid myself
Of these disturbing phantoms
That keep me up at night.
A mixture of
Red Pepper
Sulphur
Salt
Snake skin sheds
Essential oils of Black Pepper
And other herbal extracts
Powdered bones and insects
Anvil dust
Mullein and Sage.
A hoodoo secret concoction
Made by a well trusted Mambo
A few blocks away from me.
I placed your footprint dirt in a paper bag
On which I had written your name 9 times.
I included bits of your hair
That I scavenged
With
Nine pins
Nine needles
And nine nails.
I tossed the mixture over my left shoulder
Into the moving water
Of the Delaware
And walked away
Without looking back
As a waning moon
Was drawn into the black sky.
Poor river
As if it wasn’t polluted enough.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
The Last Mosquito Of The Season
It smelled out
My warm red blood
In the firm blue crooked vein
Hachured in a relief
Displaying it’s elevated terrain
Like a mountain range
Within the crook of my left elbow.
The needle’s proboscis
Dipped below the surface
Fast and on the first try.
It really got it’s hooks in there
Pulling back crimson.
In a parasitic transaction
The last mosquito of the season
Pushed the poison
Into my arm.
As the warmth of fever
Swept through my body
Delivering waves of false promises...
And not until then...
The sign of a true addict...
Did I bring my right hand down
In a quick motion
To kill the trespassing bastard.
I watched his black limbs flinch
Accepting death
Upon my bruised
Red, black and blue vein.
I watched his wax-paper wings
Stop moving
As the white-heat came upon me
And I kept living.
My warm red blood
In the firm blue crooked vein
Hachured in a relief
Displaying it’s elevated terrain
Like a mountain range
Within the crook of my left elbow.
The needle’s proboscis
Dipped below the surface
Fast and on the first try.
It really got it’s hooks in there
Pulling back crimson.
In a parasitic transaction
The last mosquito of the season
Pushed the poison
Into my arm.
As the warmth of fever
Swept through my body
Delivering waves of false promises...
And not until then...
The sign of a true addict...
Did I bring my right hand down
In a quick motion
To kill the trespassing bastard.
I watched his black limbs flinch
Accepting death
Upon my bruised
Red, black and blue vein.
I watched his wax-paper wings
Stop moving
As the white-heat came upon me
And I kept living.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Fountain Of Youth
I drank from the Fountain Of Youth
Yesterday.
I discovered it
Between her thighs
At half past eight.
The old man felt younger
Rejuvenated
And full of spirit.
There was no secret.
Only the willingness
And the pioneer
To explore
The uncharted.
Yesterday.
I discovered it
Between her thighs
At half past eight.
The old man felt younger
Rejuvenated
And full of spirit.
There was no secret.
Only the willingness
And the pioneer
To explore
The uncharted.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Luchador
Exacting
Precision and balance
On top of the rope
He stood perfectly still.
A beautiful corpse.
‘Cadaver Guapo’.
Listening to the roar
Of the crowd
Fade out
To a distant white noise.
Inside his mind
A tranquil quiet
Formed
As he raised his arms
Like the wings of a swan
Taking flight.
He took in a slow deep breath
Bending at the knees
The rubber of his muscles
Bulging from the compression.
He had his own recipe
For style and success.
Equal parts
Stealth
Character
Strength
Integrity
Appeal
And showmanship.
It wasn’t enough
To simply defeat
The opponent.
He must do it with
‘Brio’.
He leapt with great strength
Off of the bending wire
Catapulting high in the air.
‘Estar alto en el aire’.
Flashing lights
Reflected off his
‘Mascara’.
Sparks flew
Fireworks exploded
The screams of the crowd
Came back.
Like a raptor
Full of focus and conviction
He locked on the eyes
Of the other luchador.
He could smell
The victory
Even then
Mid-air
Amongst the sweet
Caramel scent
Of warm
Corn tamales.
He flew in
For the title.
Precision and balance
On top of the rope
He stood perfectly still.
A beautiful corpse.
‘Cadaver Guapo’.
Listening to the roar
Of the crowd
Fade out
To a distant white noise.
Inside his mind
A tranquil quiet
Formed
As he raised his arms
Like the wings of a swan
Taking flight.
He took in a slow deep breath
Bending at the knees
The rubber of his muscles
Bulging from the compression.
He had his own recipe
For style and success.
Equal parts
Stealth
Character
Strength
Integrity
Appeal
And showmanship.
It wasn’t enough
To simply defeat
The opponent.
He must do it with
‘Brio’.
He leapt with great strength
Off of the bending wire
Catapulting high in the air.
‘Estar alto en el aire’.
Flashing lights
Reflected off his
‘Mascara’.
Sparks flew
Fireworks exploded
The screams of the crowd
Came back.
Like a raptor
Full of focus and conviction
He locked on the eyes
Of the other luchador.
He could smell
The victory
Even then
Mid-air
Amongst the sweet
Caramel scent
Of warm
Corn tamales.
He flew in
For the title.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Inspiration I (For Lawnchair Larry)
The lawnchair pulled at the tethers
Holding it in place
As he sat down
Into it’s gentle movement.
This day had been on his mind
Since he was 13.
He packed only the necessities...
Aviator glasses
Sandwiches
A parachute
Pistol
CB Radio
And a six-pack of cold PBR’s.
He looked up
At 45 eight-foot weather balloons
Framed by the slate blue of sky
And strapped himself in.
It was now or never
Two days before Independence Day 1982.
He turned to his friends and nodded.
Giving them the signal
To cut him loose
From the bumper
Of his Jeep.
His stomach jumped
While he tried to stay balanced
As he was quickly pulled into the air
Rapidly rising
Shot up like an elevator
To a height of about 16,000 feet.
Approximately 3 miles
Above the Earth.
He felt light and tingly
Free and exhilarated.
He looked around him
Taking in the views
Of the concrete of Long Beach
And the green of the Pacific ocean water beyond.
LA was continuous all around him.
It was chilly.
He chewed a sandwich
And enjoyed an afternoon beer buzz.
He felt surprisingly calm.
He moved his dangling feet
Back and forth
Like he was a child on a swing set
As he entered the controlled airspace
Of the LAX.
A TWA pilot first spotted him upon his approach.
He radioed the tower and described
A man in a lawnchair
Wearing aviator glasses
Eating sandwiches
And holding a gun!
Radar confirmed the existence
Of an object floating 16,000 feet
Above the airport.
Air traffic
Was delayed.
About two hours had passed
And he was numb
From the altitude.
He began shooting out some of the balloons.
His descent was slow...
Especially when the pellet gun
Slipped out of his grasp
Falling over the side of grooved aluminum
To the Earth below.
Surely it was the fifth beer
That had something to do with it
He thought.
He did not control his descent as well as he had wanted to
And ended up with his balloons
Tangled up in some power lines
Leaving him hanging
5 feet above the ground
Causing a black-out
In the city of Long Beach
For about 20 minutes
Or more.
Not exactly eloquent or professional or trained
Because it wasn't.
Yet...
He
Like a celebrity
Climbed down to safety
Into the waiting arms of the
Long Beach Police
And FAA.
Even so
The descent wasn’t as cool as the lift off.
When asked why he did it
He answered
“A man can’t just sit around and look pretty”.
The FAA was not amused
And settled for a $1,500 fine.
Larry was right
When he stated:
"If the FAA was around when the Wright Brothers were testing their aircraft, they would
never have been able to make their first flight at Kitty Hawk."
“Where’s the love?”
He asked.
He emitted a small burp
Tasting
The ham and cheese of a sandwich
And the light
Fizzy
Hoppiness
Of five
Pabst Blue Ribbon
Beers.
Holding it in place
As he sat down
Into it’s gentle movement.
This day had been on his mind
Since he was 13.
He packed only the necessities...
Aviator glasses
Sandwiches
A parachute
Pistol
CB Radio
And a six-pack of cold PBR’s.
He looked up
At 45 eight-foot weather balloons
Framed by the slate blue of sky
And strapped himself in.
It was now or never
Two days before Independence Day 1982.
He turned to his friends and nodded.
Giving them the signal
To cut him loose
From the bumper
Of his Jeep.
His stomach jumped
While he tried to stay balanced
As he was quickly pulled into the air
Rapidly rising
Shot up like an elevator
To a height of about 16,000 feet.
Approximately 3 miles
Above the Earth.
He felt light and tingly
Free and exhilarated.
He looked around him
Taking in the views
Of the concrete of Long Beach
And the green of the Pacific ocean water beyond.
LA was continuous all around him.
It was chilly.
He chewed a sandwich
And enjoyed an afternoon beer buzz.
He felt surprisingly calm.
He moved his dangling feet
Back and forth
Like he was a child on a swing set
As he entered the controlled airspace
Of the LAX.
A TWA pilot first spotted him upon his approach.
He radioed the tower and described
A man in a lawnchair
Wearing aviator glasses
Eating sandwiches
And holding a gun!
Radar confirmed the existence
Of an object floating 16,000 feet
Above the airport.
Air traffic
Was delayed.
About two hours had passed
And he was numb
From the altitude.
He began shooting out some of the balloons.
His descent was slow...
Especially when the pellet gun
Slipped out of his grasp
Falling over the side of grooved aluminum
To the Earth below.
Surely it was the fifth beer
That had something to do with it
He thought.
He did not control his descent as well as he had wanted to
And ended up with his balloons
Tangled up in some power lines
Leaving him hanging
5 feet above the ground
Causing a black-out
In the city of Long Beach
For about 20 minutes
Or more.
Not exactly eloquent or professional or trained
Because it wasn't.
Yet...
He
Like a celebrity
Climbed down to safety
Into the waiting arms of the
Long Beach Police
And FAA.
Even so
The descent wasn’t as cool as the lift off.
When asked why he did it
He answered
“A man can’t just sit around and look pretty”.
The FAA was not amused
And settled for a $1,500 fine.
Larry was right
When he stated:
"If the FAA was around when the Wright Brothers were testing their aircraft, they would
never have been able to make their first flight at Kitty Hawk."
“Where’s the love?”
He asked.
He emitted a small burp
Tasting
The ham and cheese of a sandwich
And the light
Fizzy
Hoppiness
Of five
Pabst Blue Ribbon
Beers.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Honey Crisp
This day tastes of the cool Honey Crisp apples
Picked by hand at Solebury Orchards
The species of apple that drools
Tart fall sap-juice down the side
Of my mouth
Running the jaw-line
Before I can catch it
Trickling down the side of my throat
The sweet scent of hay
Straw
Horse manure
And pumpkin
Lingering
While I bring
The back of my hand up
Too slowly
To wipe the apple dew away
Realizing
The futility
Of such a movement
I am compelled
To take another bite
And another
Until there is but a core
Of a brisk
White-sun bleached
Autumn day
Picked by hand at Solebury Orchards
The species of apple that drools
Tart fall sap-juice down the side
Of my mouth
Running the jaw-line
Before I can catch it
Trickling down the side of my throat
The sweet scent of hay
Straw
Horse manure
And pumpkin
Lingering
While I bring
The back of my hand up
Too slowly
To wipe the apple dew away
Realizing
The futility
Of such a movement
I am compelled
To take another bite
And another
Until there is but a core
Of a brisk
White-sun bleached
Autumn day
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