Kiss my life

yesterday
leaning over bar
I played the
lonesome traveler
peering over pint
of oyster stout
silently brooding

'in heaven we will all be safe,
          there will be no reality to bear,'

in private libraries
I read alone
another night leads
to another day and that
is gone from me already
already I am older still
slower still stiller still

yesterday
in auld forgotten faces
I got the usual in a place
I'd only been once
two weeks before

a delorean revved its engine
across street to cheering crowds
another celebrity out of time

the sun was set
the night lingered
bits of orange
tint of black
purple bruises

yesterday
I limped home up Ode St.
caught each transfer
perfect red to yellow line to 16J
fed my cat
showered
turned off all the lights
kissed my life farewell
fell asleep

grandfathers and beers

count the dead soldiers
lined up in a row
emptied out

how many did you kill?

how many bodies left to be tapped
how many are still fit for service

will they get us where we're going or fail?

count count the dead soldiers
packed in factories
states away

how many do you really need?

how many glisten in the sun
how many end up in the ground

will they last forever or perhaps degrade?

count the dead soldiers
left waiting until morning
silently stale

how many more tomorrow?

how much longer should we wait
how many more to come off the line

will they pour their souls out on cold streets?

count the dead dead soldiers
six in each platoon
none unique

how many did you knowingly kill?

how many until the world spins out of control
how many before there's no turning back

will they march with us, or upon our graves?

on drinking a beer before bed

something to think about

Hampton bops at piano
Dexter blows
Wendell beside him swaying
Mcghee in dark shades
Trummy slides, bays

bottle cap upturned on counter
kitchen light fades
flickers

moon turns
on its heel
shadowed
waxing

brass shimmering
in the past

half cleared

is this what it's like?

dying,
growing old,
watching time

falter

I set the empty bottle in the sink

alone

I'll wash it out

tomorrow.

A Tunnel of Steel Reserve

Empty Steel Reserves,
individually bagged,
lay in a slim, brick-walled
tunnel under US route 1,
along with a few cans of
Coors and a beer you wouldn't
recognize side of tall boy
reading -IDE, offering
some kind of story of
night, from the night,
before, it's raining now,
cold, hard, January rain,
last night rained even harder,
imagine those hands seeking
respite from freezing wetness
of closing hours, darkened streets,
lonely highway passages,
imagined drunkenness, sadness,
un-watched aching eyes
peering into the fluorescent
bitterness of tunnels lights,
strange, english muffin looking
dripping ceiling scratched lengthwise
bladed hand of some horrible
nightmare beast,
imagine fumes of beer,
a story to fill last hopeless hours
of the day, day gone now, fading
into memory, imagine leaning
hearts, folded, buried, wishful
of old places, better days,
imagine a story lost
to time and ignorance,
speaking sorrowfully, gladly,
maybe regretfully to me as
I avoid the rain,as I
drink in the mornings
stories.

Can't find the road in a bottle

label was the same
but street was cluttered
madness backed up
rush hour mess, wait at
light three times, rain
coming down, smell
of sweat damp stench
M street to Wisconsin
time it takes to get
home on a normal day
what're ya gonna do,
this ain't Kansas brother,
this ain't the open plains

I drew up the memory of
40, walking under overcast skies,
lost in a place I'd never been,
never believed I'd be,

now, here, here
the beer doesn't even taste the same,
it's not unexpected,
and it ain't the west,

I choked it down,
I ordered another.

Piss

A piss behind the dumpter
off King and Patrick (?)
I think maybe, or not,
but it was off King,
under stars, cool night,
one half block off main
line and silence, I am alone,

there's nothing like pissing outside

there's nothing like beer

Felicia shakes her head but she
knows there's no use

I'm gonna go

fuck

I gotta go.

Ya see what I have to write about

He didn't take any shit
and he told Vitaly right off he
was ready to slap someone
to keep them in line, the blonde haired
punk walking with him nodded to the
story, shifted his long-board, "Yeah, he slapped my brother
tonight, this guys great," He was fumbling
down the sidewalk throwing rights into the air
long-haired with a baseball cap and the image of
Rob Zombie somewhere in his late 30s,
Steve was making cut motions at his neck
mouthing, "let's get the fuck outta here," we were
going to get mugged or killed or whatever
but we kept on in the gloom of the West Chester night,
it feeling like summer with no street lights and the occasional
blazing headlights of a lonely car and I kept up with the blonde
cutting jokes when Rob uttered some drunken wisdom,
his house was close, said he'd been just in from California
and was staying in a room at $200 flat with a shared
bathroom we'd have to be quiet to use, he was gonna
play his guitar (which the blonde kid assured he was great
tho told us they'd just met) and had a "huge blunt,"
that I wasn't interested in smoking, just wanted to see
where this whole thing was going, so when
we got to the house he stopped and made sure
everybody was silent, said he knew all the
acronyms, Steve catching my eye going "whatever
the fuck that means,"
he opened the door to husband and wife sitting
Monday night on the couch watching the tv box,
"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" "huh,
I live here," "This is my fucking house! Get the fuck out!"
he stepped pleadingly into entrance way
door in the fight for wandering lost minds and Steve was
halfway up the street already, Vitaly and me backing down the
front steps and laughing our asses off catching up, the blonde kid called us back
and the last we saw of those idiots in the heavy night three blocks back
was their waving helpless god-damned arms

Cellulose

Vitaly nodded like Ginsberg on
blow--
          wrecking the car, the beers
were cheap but the place shit
fishtown old spot to hear music
but now the 90s dance throb was
bleeding--my ears, and the girls--
    sorry this isn't for you, tho you looked
nice I guess, I was drunk & Vitaly had the
Christian Bale going, where it
was going--to the corner, the lights,
the trolley line--
   
     wheels were blue 'cause gawd couldn't
double park

for shit.

The smell was mold and lights
when I pissed in the alley
at 3am
forgetting the names.

It was an adventure

Left a note on your car
and tweed seats waited for the
morning when you'd find
my drunken scribbling on a torn
piece of paper with
blue bordered rows, the night was
washing madness and Tommy knocked over
a port-o-potty, Dave a tree--
we explored, I hit my head, we switched
hats, I vaulted over the toppled bathroom
square, while dave chased us all
with Paul Bunyan branch in
Jefferson Park--
Tommy climbed a fence to
abandoned hospital pavement worlds,
I hopped into Dave's car upside down
on Broad Street , Jujy Fruits in the
back seat, he must have stopped off--
Glass was broken, it's a shatter
whirlwind waste--
It was an adventure

parking cones

"Where'd you get those cones?"
s'gettin' colder,
world's jumping up and down
with his lights off and cars slowing down,
"huh?" wha..
"you heard me." bald and
oh we've been drinkin' and we're
"If there's anything written on those"
don't tell me there isn't
but it's rising outta me and I can't stop it,
don't wanna I can't hide it when it's coming
"you laughing, you better stop laughing son because"
trying to jesus, now he's gettin outta the car
and mad, bald and mad, and comin for us
up a slope
fuck beer flying fuck sliver bullet crashing soundless
at least before it spills
the whole things bleeding in-out
like my attention cause we gotta tell him,
"Home Depot?" that makes sense, right?
he should just "what?" leave us
cause we bought these "Home Depot"
so we can go? GO. put that shit down
and Go. the beer? no that's already gone
cause we lost it when we dropped the cones,
white car lights off boots walking toward
in your face holding laughter while it's
burning PUT IT DOWN burning up
outta me like the beer flying somewhere outta sight.
like the cones and the cops
in the cold PUT THEM DOWN did he see?
can you believe "Home Depot "
how'd he know? HOME DEPOT
funny then and now
c'mon man, he must'a seen us
walkin' like pioneers on Broad's four lanes
with those orange trophies slung over weighted shoulders swinging
off into the reflective night slowed him down
blue and angry coming toward us and
the worlds spinning smashed cranberries
QUICK a PLAN bury the bubbling PLAN hide the rising mirth
drop that shit like he says and walk the fuck away.

Questioning Youth

When were those nights
of cold beer and even colder bottles,
musty and brown,
filling our yearning youthful stomachs,
sad and planning the mornings
treasure of cardboard pizza,
cheese terribly hard and tomato
spread like a jackson pollock
murder mystery masterpiece
across your kitchen floor,
waking to the worst-greatest pounding
head trauma, throat burning,
internal gymnast hangover,
the room blurred
and a girl in your arms,
or in your bed, someone's bed,
where were those nights when you told us
we'd live forever, and we felt and believed,
truly, truly believed,
Answer me now why the beer tastes stale
and bitter, why the creases grow deeper,
weaker, and those nights run away from us
as fast as we ran to them,
off into the eternal distance.

BYOB

There's almost 12 minutes
for the sun to fall,
shatters like glass on the jagged
grassy meadow
green with failure,

some gigantic miniature
fragile ball shoveled to the brim
with molten light,
burning frost coated promises
of further eons and possible futures,

into the dizzying-distance
of unfurnished time,
close those eyes and...

wait...

wait for it to make its final descent,
with man following obedient,
into the unforeseen age of decisions,

uninspired.

walk close to the shore on those
soft rocks you love,
that break under foot,
with every crushingly unconscious step,
I'll reap the rewards
of your bloody bruises
ever wandering
over the seat and table cafe,
over the street,
under the blue and white
patterned umbrella,
blocking out the clouds.