"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..."
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."
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
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. __________________________________
obsidian looks like a grey brain before it breaks open but then LeRoi Jones becomes a white name you can't pronounce because you've never jumped into the green river of crusted saxophones that smell like camphor and butthole as the phonic hooker pulls out this one long finger you'll be begging to sniff when she writes you a poem with her cum
I burned my copy of The Santa Cruz Mountain Poems while the Santa Cruz Mountains were burning in my Aztec flip-flops as a random act of kindness or a silent blessing for the traffic dripping like wax semen because it will always get worse if you're friendly and donating your hair to someone who has cancer and is on fire in an incorrect automobile listening to Tom Petty leaving everything they have to smoky children but that's just the way it is when calling faces in clouds family
the one and only time I stepped foot in the Chelsea Hotel this queen at the desk started moaning ooooo and aahhh and said don't you want to come see the famous Chelsea Hotel with these puckered lips as I walked back out into 23rd Street where some asshole with a cardboard box was playing three-card Monte and wanted me to find the lady but I kept on walking
those old-time lowrider chicks would say that just a little dot of ink under the skin would get you into heaven so I got me a diamond made out of the alphabet with the words Word Man going across through the middle in red but that was over twenty years ago and it looks old like my father's tattoos used to look when I was a kid and I suppose his ink got him in although you wouldn't really consider him a candidate no matter what he did and he really wouldn't give a fuck anyway but he would appreciate it just like if you handed him another cold beer
tattoo of sad face scared face after diagnosis... woke up one morning feeling sad. He didn't know why... blood test markers indicate cancer... scared face of a girl... feeling sad puppies face smiley's sad face, frowning angry smile faces here are the unhappy pictures of smiley... clowns circus clown happy sad face necktie... cancer causing face cream... sad memories? sad mammaries... Red Dawn still rules my face... smiley doesn't wanna smile anymore, animated crying face... blood culture in cancer patients. happy valley... sad tearing happy face deflated white balloon with a sad face on a black background... sad crying blood eyes crying sad smiley face sad face gets his lights punched out, pictures of cancer face... earth globe sad face... so it is the disease
the hangover just proves that life is free to make of it what you will and fuck them all to be exact it's just you and me baby and that dejection of their clear skies now and forever and on and on and on and on and on all the way past the bridge toward God's neon eyes
the first of each month was called Mother's Day because all the women would get their welfare checks and us slackers would enjoy the spoils just for the dick service or a few lies but when the money was gone the food stamps would come and the bitches would use them to buy cases of soda pop to pour out on the ground so they could take all the cans back for the deposit and buy a few bottles of Mad Dog to drink with us under a grotesquely happy sun before the arguments got started
like the old drunks would say you crawled out the pussy then you spend the rest of your life trying to crawl back in and that's pretty right on except I spent more time licking the clit then actually tonguing the hole although I did that too with someone else's kid crying down the hall or in the living room with the empty beer cans and the haphazard plate of dope and the stinking diapers and the TV full of blue Smurfs way more eloquent than me when I would try to beg the bitch for forgiveness
razor blade chopped voices of days long gone by now just the cutouts and a rained on valentine when the dice hit that table playing 10,000 for whatever day it is you will have the longest face in that short staring mirror to feel that burn like we are all dead anyway so high way up behind this ritual of the next line
skimming gracefully over the blue water) in an alley between two stores) the older of the two boys)
"hot teen wet ass fucking hard by horny dog cock"
The ill-fated Judy Garland, for instance, was reputed to include her song 'Over the Rainbow' in every performance she gave not so much because audiences loved it, but because she thought it brought her luck.
so out of your skin not a living the bus that never came through those duct taped sunglasses