Napkin quips

or how I got drunk and thought I was a genius

better watch out
little lovelies
I’ve had enough bourbon
I’m liable
to fall in love
any second now.


I keep a bottle in the oven-
so let it rise

the dreams of these poor friends:

people just barely faster than the encroaching world
less than a neck ahead
of the huge blue and white marble
that is the earth

are you still my brother
or do you think
I’m the next to fall
to the dark star
you’ve made a life of dodging


“how are you doing”
she asked
“I’m feeling old tonight”
I said honestly.
It was clearly a mistake,
she walked off
and faded into the parade of faces in the bar . . .


I’m a social worker
who believes you can FUCK people
to happiness,
I just don’t get many needy applicants.


it was a meeting
with me and me
but I wasn’t there.


this drink tastes a lot like remorse
but it makes it go away


did you feel my eyes upon you
no – not just a breeze
no – not the citrus sun
no – not a word from anyone
just the relative intake of a breath

the rattle of dead bones
inside the lung

nothing more than this
nothing more than an exploded wish

the wind blows
a dead plastic bag-
downtown tumbleweed


did I sleep?
how could I
or really I dunno
some kind of darkness happened
some sort of darkness was there
if that’s what you mean.


a lot of shit is gonna come to you
fast forward –

Grady White said that.
later in the night, when I produced a miniature plastic pig from my pocket
he said VERY drunk and slurring :
OHHH! you know what that reminds me of? Gulimars Trammels with Ted Dancer. You know she was hooked up with Whoopi Goldstein don’t you?

also in the same bar another time a fellow named “the Penguin”, very drunk and too young to be a total drunk like he was, said “I’m really cool when I’m asleep”


the stars rain down:
insane currency
for a lost soul
celestial wash
for fools


that letter you sent
well I got it.
but I didn’t get it.

these hollow giants
that drape from the ceiling
or the sky
what ever word makes you feel more comfortable

these giants
they’re full of wadded paper and trash
and old notes and notions
like this one

so I hope you like my reply.


Someday I’m gonna write a poem
full of incomprehensible
heady words
so some bookish intellectual
posing as a local drunk
can spout them
at the bartender
who secretly loves words
and even keeps a dictionary in her purse

someday I will do this
and thus
grease the wheels of life and death
and shit like that.



Gauguin vision in a topless bar-
his pure native
dancing, smoldering
naked  in first nature
beautiful natural brown
and oh,
the skin . . .


I will write a letter
to the universe
so as to better explain myself to it

and when I meet people
I will give it to them
and they can take it
or leave it.


for the last few year
when I’ve seen a shooting star
when I’ve seen a street light go out
I have wished for the very same thing-
my writing.

as a poet
solitude is essential for the process

strange that I am saddened
by my lonely state
is this not my wish?


Since I left you
I have been close by
if only for your protection
as a nearby eye
a shallow cry
a last goodbye
I have lost all.


If you seek audience
for your sorrows
come to Nita’s

I’m at the door
or on the floor
regardless I’ll nod

I’ll wink with sympathy
what you want
I will comply


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