Exactly

Those who say the poet is a very private and precious person I don’t agree with. Generally he is just a dumb, fuddling asshole writing insecure lines that don’t come through. Believing he’s immortal. Waiting for his immortality which never arrives, because the poor fucker just can’t write.

-Charles Bukowski

A haiku for Ken's return to Spokane

You pulled the trigger.
Blamed me for stepping in front.
So I pled guilty.


Sidenote: Pled is not the correct past tense form of "Plead", but I don't give a fuck what yo' dikshunayree says!

Return to Zion

"Don't finish that bottle off,"
I tell her,
"I'll need something to
drink tomorrow night. When
I'm alone."
Stunning holograms
mimic folding screens,
portable partitions,
and castle moats.
Who dares to enter
this facade of a division?
If my eyes could fuck you,
we wouldn't need to
waste so much time
establishing foreign policy.
The worst nights are those
where I am too drunk to drive
but not drunk enough
to sleep.
But you left enough liquid courage
for me to face my nightmares
this time.
And for that, I owe my deepest empathy
to those who have none.
May resentment come
all too soon for the righteous
and disheartened.

I was so on the clock when I wrote this

They all walk
with purpose, downtown.
They fear
being caught gawking
or wondering.
Panhandlers always
chase the first twinkle of
awe. To be caught
off the trail here
means certain
change purse death.
They're staring at me, now.
At the shrine of cigarette butts
I've erected to the deity of
warm weather absorption.
At the collection of pages
I hold that look nothing
like memos
and legal briefs.

Young Man Leaves Party

my take on Mark Strand's 'Old Man Leaves Party'

My tie was pre-loosened.
This was not to be like before.
Saturdays are not Fridays.
I didn't perceive breaking her heart
I promise.
Not on Saturday.
Seemed like more of a Tuesday thing.
I look like a burnt-out businessman
in a suit.
Or a sleezy car salesman.
The sound of rolling beer bottles
down the street
made more sense as a recording
of "they're laughing at me."
Ha
He's a poet. Its ok.
You won't ever know what I think about you.
unless I tell you.
I've eaten all the taffy I can stand.
Whiskey and ginger ale hurl bricks
through my facade.
I'm a much better actor, sober.

Almost One Night Stand

I drink a different beer tonight.
These are different people.
They drink for escape
and enjoyment.
I drink for work;
to write.
I drink to find
demons I haven't
exorcised yet.
I don't drink to find shelter,
but to escape it.
I drink so I can flirt.
I drink to love you.
I drink to scrawl words
on a notebook
on a porch
on a cigarette
on lips
that I won't bring myself to kiss.
I drink to hurt myself
I drink to remember you.
I drink I drink
Alcohol
Alcohol
Alcohol
Alcohol
And we forget ourselves.

a beginning with no end, yet

I begin to notice
now.
Being downwind from loneliness.
Like raft logs
in whitewater
I am both afloat
and sunken,
praying for
the day I am
named driftwood
and burn
as two soulmates
spend sand in
the search for beauty
not seen by firelight.
I have not been
waterlogged, yet.
But I've swallowed
my share of rapids.
There is not
enough wine
in this world
to wash me from you
I know this
and I almost apologized, but I was far too jealous.