Tuesday, May 28, 2013

our new sheets

new room
same old place
facing south this time
watching Young Chow,
Crystal City's favorite go-go bar,
got a view of the Sev n' it
almost feels like home,
tho at home I never faced
anything but
pink sunsets over row home
horizons, mysterious
red blinking lights of the future,
alleys where American flags hid behind
diorama glass to reflect their image
on our window pane

now I got windows reflecting windows
in the dark condominium night, we're all wondering who can
see in but nobody looks outside
long enough to tell--is it the 28th already?
where have I gone? who can say--?

I can't remember the last place
I rested, how many years ago-- I'll
fall asleep standing up someday,
the Earth'll be my bed
my home
my end.

My Cereal and the fortune teller

my cereal speaks in
linear bursts of thought on
rims of Styrofoam bowls
sparks interest from your
falling stars--from you falling stars--

from your
helpless knives making
ladies on Jupiter's final moon
along the Milky Way dance
along they dance--my mind takes
me there in time--I don't operate on the
militarized march,
the doctors got there first
and gone was my frontal lobe
through the eye socket with
an ice pick to the lazy cell
so I wobble slowly on cellophane streets

calling on the assembly line,
because, hell,
who knows better than
the plastic manufacture
how the pesticides made it on--
how the ingredients list was cheated
how much time
there's left, but the
timeless--? Who knows

Who's got it all figured out
in the fallout shells
in south american greenlands
labeled entropy, iceland, glue
on the dotted maps
with the incorrect measurements
and the lettered ocean pollution
that never stays the same,

why do we care for the lost little babes
when the mirror's all fucked up,
cracked barcodes and it
used to be 99 cents--huh?

My cereal hasn't got that answer
yet on it's TI-88
but it plugs away, it jetisons the load
it ignites the crematory pyre
It drowns itself in milk
for my benefit.

Thursday, May 23, 2013


You ain't a Junction City Boy
until you've been stranded
on that thirsty starless Sunday boulevard
down by the Super 8
Route 40 eatin' biscuits and gravy
strong coffee at Stacey's come 4am,
just you and the truckers
happen to be passing through

You don't know what it's like
on that old odd corner 5th and East
by the livestock auction fence,
abandoned mill beside the spinning
railroad tracks,
Tennessee Charlie giving ya hell--for what?
"it's a Job," he'd say, "got on a boat!" &
he'd go--

You can't stick ta that name
till you drag your bones outta that
black hole town & get moving west, till ya
see those mountains that'll take your whole
eye in and hold it in the land forever &
with the gray sun setting
make your way to bluer shores;

the name only comes from looking back.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Say it, see it, gone gone gone western blues

Just so you know
I haven't forgotten--
been lugging my bag and
banging my head on
down that dusty road
west, been out and
gone in junction city kansas-
style on a sunday
nowheres to go and no
car to go it in--been lost and
cold and wet on that
highway life at 4am in
the thickest tar black night
you could imagine--been high too
digging everything all silent in
my wanderers head--thinking
and writing whatever hellish unprintable
mash I could envision
been takin' down the days the hours
as the tires turn wear out rot
and angle--seen every god damn
god fearing thing--unconquerable
unquestioned--rising out of the
gray american fog--
lost all my words trying to figure out
what it is
where it went