apprentice


all you 
do
is strike 
a 
match
toss
it
on 
the gasoline
& 
flames 
accelerate
like 
stock 
cars
on
a 
speed
way

Narrative

 
I have a pain
in my mid-section –
possibly my liver.
Cirrhosis got Kerouac
and the 12-gauge
got Hemingway
before Cirrhosis
could.
The ways out
for writers
are bleak
in most cases.
I should probably
put down
the bottle
the same way
we need to
put down
this narrative
about writers
killing themselves,
voluntarily.
It’s a tired,
old narrative
and the people
looking in
from the outside
don’t understand
that it hasn’t
been written
by writers
themselves.
It’s been perpetuated
by pop-culture vultures
who need something
to feed off of.
Fate can be
a cruel bitch
who always gets
her way
and writers succumb
to her lure
which keeps
the narrative
alive
when it’s
iconic writers
we should’ve kept
alive instead. 




Quarters


I went
into Wells Fargo
in downtown Anaheim
to get quarters
for laundry.
It’s the biggest
pain in my ass
besides rats,
roaches,
and termites.
The charm
of living
in an old apt.
building.
There were several
homeless people
in line –
one with swollen,
purple hands
like potatoes,
and another
with a dirty,
dusty
Duck Dynasty-type
beard.
All of them
withdrew
hundreds of dollars.
I watched the one
with the dirty beard
hobble into
a parking garage
next to the bank
and surrender
his envelope
of cash
to a drug dealer,
whom didn’t look
as banged up
as the homeless man.
He drove away
in a Corolla
that needed
new tires.
I wondered if
he was taking
the cash
to buy a set,
but probably not.
We tend to neglect
necessitates
for pleasures
and put our money
where it
fills us.

 

News from Nowhere


The people who come walking
over the hill
come from nowhere.

We know this because
the tree on the top of the hill
is the end of the world.

Do not believe them
when they tell you otherwise
as they will, if you let them.

They'll tell you all sorts of stories
about life on the other side of the hill,
none of them true.

Some say their stories are dreams,
some say they themselves are dreams.
Whatever the truth of it,

they'll make it sound so good
that, before you know it,
you'll want to go back with them.

But be warned: if you go with them
back over the hill
you'll walk into nowhere,

become a dream.
When you see them coming
go inside and lock yourself in.

Old Couple


The young watch us with a look of pain in their eyes, maybe sometimes a look of pity. They watch uneasily as we take up residence in the lost jungle ruins of disposable culture. I share their skepticism of the long-term significance of greased-back hair and a shiny gold suit. Extinction beckons. The next life cycle is likely to be crucial. And then what? If love is an evolutionary dead end, it’s still your favorite dinosaur, the spiky, armor-plated one with the murderous clublike tail. 

Transitions

A premature hint of spring creeps into town overnight. Suddenly I’m aware of the dead birds hanging by their stretched necks like window ornaments. I started growing a beard as a diversion, for something to do, but have kept it as a kind of camouflage. Even so, an air of sadness clings to me like a gypsy curse. Or maybe it’s that words have begun to resist assigned meanings. My own countrymen prefer speed, directness simplicity – the booming echo of a gunshot to the eerie silence that follows.

"A Typical Guy"

I'm just someone that pays part of the bills
living in an apartment trapped in a city slum

my roommates are unreliable
sometimes checking to see if my room is locked

I've had three girlfriends in the last year
wanting to marry me until they knew me better

I'm a typical guy in these days of now
a little depressed holding onto a job that's meaningless

walking around and around the park at night
wishing I was a tree.

Co-Pilot

I’m a good driver.
God is my co-pilot.
He rides in the
Front passenger seat
Next to me.
But,
If He keeps grabbing
At the steering wheel
While I’m driving,
I’m puttin’ His ass
On the street.

Rabbit

 

Went to Thursdays with
a friend who quit boot
camp but hates this bar so
left. I am good at waiting in
darkness, alone, drinking.
Other friends come but are
clung on by creepers. I Woke
Up Today by Port O’Brien
plays and suddenly we’re on
the precipice of another Ohio
summer! I high-five Rabbit
AKA High-Five Guy who is
an Eagle Scout. He buys us
shots of Crown and Coke,
then throws his glass into
the air, aiming for the roof.
But there is a hole in the roof
and the glass follow’s gravity’s
stringent rules and shatters
on the kaleidoscope everywhere.
The bald, black-eyed bouncer
points a finger and we are back
on the streets, the future still
shards in our powerful palms.

way out of my league
 
i still remember your smile
 
the eyes that could melt
me from across the room
 
i always fell for the ones
way out of my league
 
there was a security in
knowing there was no
fucking way that was
ever going to happen
 
i think the first time
we talked on the phone
it was for over four
hours
 
i could have easily told
you i love you right then
and there
 
but i tried to play it cool
 
of course, i missed my chance
 
i assure myself that it would
have never worked
 
and the guy that you end up
with will be so amazing that
i'll know there was no
fucking chance
 
so, the ball is actually
in your court now
 
you stay single any longer
and my imagination is
going to start to believe
in hope again

The sound of the Ohio river__ 

 
Driftwood bones 
Rolling current 
Shiny diadem 
Of sun reflected water 

The river muddy brown 
Thick mucous of Dagon 
Bubbling towards 
The Mississippi 

Mind on skull raft 
Like a search light 
Strafing around in circles 
Looking for Tom Sawyer 
& Huck Finn 

The sound of the Ohio 
Gurgling rushing bubbling  
Plopping splashing  

The percolating tumbler 
Of dreams 
---