THE FOLLOWING BOOKS
WERE PUBLISHED WITH
WORK OFF OF THIS BLOG!!!!



FOR MORE INFO ON HAPPY HOUR
AND HOW TO ORDER, CLICK HERE:

http://lokidesign.net/2356/2010/11/four-minutes-to-midnight-issue-eleven%E2%80%94happy-hour/

"To tell you the truth, I'm pretty burned out
on meat poetry or street poetry or poetry of
the down-and-out, whatever you want to call
it, because so much of it is bullshit; either bogus
motherfuckers who never shed blood but
insinuate themselves into the lives of those
who have and then make a name for themselves
by writing generic imitations, or a bunch of
middle-class kids still living at home talking
tough, aping Bukowski, Wantling, levy, Micheline...
but HAPPY HOUR is the real thing. Stark precision.
It's stripped down, bare bones authentic.
You be the real McCoy, amigo..."
-John Bennett


A new EBOOK!
FREE DOWNLOAD!
CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO:
http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/pesticide-drift/9128215


DRINKING & THINKING
FROM BLUE PRESS,
SANTA CRUZ, CA. 2010
"For a while, now, outside of
what you/ve been doing
outside Klamath Falls and what
Todd Moore was doing outside
Albuquerque, not much
integrity married to the inside
dope of the poetic imagination
as far as my jaded view
has been concerned."
-Michael C. Ford


SOMEONE WHO LOVED YOU
From 48th Street Press,
Philadelphia, PA. 2010
"SOMEONE WHO LOVED YOU
is simply a great piece of work."
-GERALD NICOSIA


TASTE THE
From If Year Books,
Brooklyn, N.Y. 2009
"A cool little scrabble of
fugitive pieces, some
handwritten, some paste-
ups, all laid in like a scrapbook
miscellany with mean teeth."
-Kevin Opstedal, Ukulele Feedback


DON'T SAY A WORD
From Blue Press,
Santa Cruz, CA. 2008
"F. A. Nettelbeck isn't
fucking around."
-Patrick Dunagan,
galatea resurrects #9




Signed copies are $10 each,
plus $2 postage and handling...
checks payable to F. A. Nettelbeck,
POB 69, Beatty, OR 97621 U.S.A.
__________________________________




1/26/08

Bukowski Cut-up

"Europeans deserve Bukowski."
-William Burroughs, in conversation


1
and the birds come
down to pick out my
eyes it does seem a
miracle to see anybody
alive strange eyes in my
head they wait on death
I keep practicing death
things are good as I am
not dead yet laughing at
nothing and here come
the armies ta ta ta kill
myself or love myself?




2
smell porkchopsin a Philly bar
was in a barfornicate like mad
symphony music nowout to crap
I hate the artsdead on a sunday
a new can of beergo mad or even
and I criedthey play Bartok
oh my dear godanother drink
bellies hanging outto his radio
rose with a cursedays like this
pick up the skirtdie a little earlier
and the weepingthe last pink sun
dying is justifiedpansies in a glass
now I am a manworms laughed
the virus holdsand I didn't care
all has gone awayradio playing
fish-green beerI watch her butt
white dishtowelpoem is a city
talking of deatheats my heart
another placebeat again feel




3
sunlight
wall
sunlight

doors
getting haircuts

I drink
I drink
and death