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.
__________________________________




8/22/08

HOW TO LIVE ON NOTHING

the grass turns red the
baby fingers plummet down
severed at the joint never
to flip no one off and that
makes me cry into my top
ramen sleeping out front at
the lost and found with a
heart full of soul and no
poems left I fucking spilt
the wine while picking off
scabs on the skin of my teeth
so which of you shits are
going to patronize me now
EVEN
NOISE
DEATH
OF
WILL
CONSTANT
BE
BOMBARDMENT
SIMULATED
IN
OCCASIONALLY
THE
ONE
PROGRAM
RECRUIT
HAS
WILL
BEEN
BE
FAKED
PULLED
SO
FROM
TOO
THE
THE
SHOW
SMELLS
AND
OF
SENT
DEADLY
HOME
GAS
WITHOUT
AND
WINNING
ROTTING
PRIZES
CORPSES

8/21/08

GOOGLING REGINALD LOCKETT IN HOPES OF ASKING HIM IF OUR FRIEND THOMAS MICHAEL FISHER IS STILL ALIVE AND THEN FINDING OUT REGINALD LOCKETT IS DEAD

What the fuck ever happened to Paul Mariah?



----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
finding "Kill All Niggers"
sprawled across a rest room
wall on vacation in Yosemite
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------



8/20/08

I'll Stop At Nothing

like Morton Marcus once told me
you never did like me and you
know what that motherfucker was
correct I didn't much like Greg Corso
either but I got all of these poets in
my Bushnells anyway so what's the
difference I am poor and spit on
everybody I write my poems in my
head while drunk driving in my tactical
vest because America wants to kill me
for robbing a Food Bank with capable
stanzas of dearth and no sick days
left at least on that surveillance video
where I'm wearing my Galway Kinnell
mask and brandishing a squirt
gun full of piss

SOFT FOCUS

you just really fucking enjoy
making an asshole of yourself

"I especially hate people"

8/19/08

Cool

we would always go trip in
Hollywood when we were
teenagers high on pot and
my partner would always
want to go to Jay Ward
Studios on the Sunset Strip
where the revolving statue
of Rocky and Bullwinkle was
and we'd try and look in the
windows but they were all
blacked out and we would
wonder are they in there
now creating cartoons and
it was all very mysterious
with that statue turning and
everything so one night we
were there smoking a joint
and out of the shadows on the
sidewalk comes Jack Kelly
who played Bart Maverick
on TV wearing a tux with the
bow tie undone stumbling and
carrying a fifth of whiskey
looking quite handsome actually
probably coming from Dino's
nightclub and we ask him hey
Maverick you want to smoke a
joint and he pushes us aside and
says fuck you and keeps on
walking back into the darkness
and that was so cool we couldn't
stop laughing for twenty minutes

8/18/08





IT'S NOT LIKE
I GET PAID
FOR THIS.




LANDFALL

my baby humpback whale is lost
on Pacific Avenue along with the
ghost of William Burroughs Jr. who
was cursed from birth so the more
we drank the more we drank and I
don't fucking have to feel like a natural
woman full of injected saltwater
the camera crew is making its final
adjustments to the shot as I keep
trying to make small talk in this poem

8/16/08

The Untouched

the new valid sentences will be
empirical truth now that the sociopath
is gone yet 6 ft. under the moonlight
a melody played in a penny arcade
makes the homunculus seem ridiculous
because of course Mickey Rourke could
kick Mickey Rooney's ass but who
would make the better Bukowski if a
young Judy Garland had her legs spread
and was calling all the untouched home

The Hills Have Eyes

roadside death-crash
markers enough to make
the realtor cry like hot buttered
soul on your blood libel or
the lips of law enforcement
around the shaft of basic human
rights so you shouldn't really expect
too much it is only life after all
you're just humming a rain song in
hand-me-down handcuffs
while checking the mailbox for a
duplicate birth certificate
filled out in someone else's name

8/14/08

FAILURE TO APPEAR

so you wanted to implode
the tears of a clown
when you woke up this
morning just to go get
yourself a beer
then why wonder whose
face is really behind
that sky or what
parallel universe you will
blackout in when
that joker asks to trade
you smiles

8/13/08

CARNIVAL

how you pooch your lips up after

rimming your old lady and they

smell like dirty cotton candy

8/12/08

At The Book Display Table

All the pretty names that they give to
baby girls who grow up to be whores.




OR AGAINST LITERACY

control the metaphors
to control the thought




8/11/08

Ghost Story

years ago I took the guy who owns the store in
Sprague River to my favorite fishing spot down
from my house here across from Council Butte
where they signed the peace treaty for the Modoc
War and I showed him the rocks like fingers that
go down to the shore and the foot deep grinding
bowl that is in one of them and I told him to imagine
when the Indian women would prepare meals there
so long ago and that blew his mind but right around
then I started smelling a heavy BenGay smell and I
asked him if he had any of it on an injured shoulder
or something and he said no and that he didn't smell
anything so I took him back to the store got some
beer and wine and went over to visit some friends at
the bottoms which was kind of a hobo jungle where
everyone lived in old dilapidated overhead campers
but all I could smell was BenGay and it was starting
to bother me so I asked them if they had any of it on
or could smell it and no no was all they would say so
we drank all afternoon and into the night and I was
getting to where I could hardly breathe from that
heavy menthol smell so anyway my friends started
asking me again about all the Indians I knew and
right then pow it motherfucking hit me with goose
bumps up the arms the whole shot it was Old Fella
shit Jesus he was an elder who I just recently had the
extreme honor of being pallbearer for because we
would party together and me and this other white
partner would kind of look after him a real character
who would only speak Paiute except every once in
awhile when your back was turned he'd say something
in English just to piss you off and he would always
smell of BenGay because he was so damned old now
exactly the moment I realized this the heavy odor
completely disappeared which was a relief but I got
real scared not knowing what it all meant so I said
goodbye to my friends and decided to drive over to
see Gow who was kind of an unofficial Chief who could
tell me something so I get over to Beatty about one
in the morning and wake his ass up and he comes
out and sits with me in the car and I tell him the whole
story and he says no no Old Fella was just giving you a
sign that he was ok and not to worry but I tell him I
don't know man it seemed like way more than that to
me but Gow just says don't worry don't worry and goes
back into his trailer and I just sit there for awhile and
begin to think that yeah he is probably right it was just
the old man touching bases so I drive on home to sleep
it off but now here is where the whole thing gets unreal
the very next day my Paiute old lady who I have been
arguing with for a week gets hit by a train and killed

8/9/08

A Little Dark Mirror

index finger against the temple like
you're blowing your brains out

crotch butter girl through
layers of synthetics at
a querulous 1969 drive-in movie
with the car still running

lost celluloid burning crimson
like a flash of chrome
at the Sharon Tate crime scene

buying food stamps from the south
Texas hippies who stole the remains
of Burroughs's orgone accumulator
in the early seventies

being born a poet after The Last Poets

crusty binoculars dug out of a ditch
before a garter snake bites the adolescent
boy who will kill you someday

THIS WAS WRITTEN LATE 1980'S AT MONA'S NUDE BAR, S.E. PORTLAND, OR:

through you no
blank thoughts
________________

As is now.
(I know)


crawl into the
dark
-------------------------
surrounding voices


NOT A LIFE


we last this
long:

as sweat &
wet
as the fear


as the lips

in the ground


stupid, but I
write &
this moves
-------------------------
to forget you


flesh & mirror;
long fingers
of time
expose need.


so you breathe
hard into his
face as he
fucks you.


I have kissed
the mirror.
________________

I have kissed
your mouth.


an exploded view
of intimidation


Agree (trail of

stolen eyes

far away)


All about you, it's
all about you,
swollen &
important inside
these words
like heated
blood.


________________
All I have.


blank mirror.

this is what
time
is

the waiting to
go back

glorious &
smooth

to that first
room


gggggggggg
I know it.
gggggggggg


--------------------------
it is not like this


MEAN
MORE
TO ME


what it takes.

a heart torn
subject to fear.


--------------------------
not to be harmed,

I accept the
fever.


I AM STILL HERE


this is now time;
not to repeat
words:

you are sick,
contained by an
eaten past.


_________________
she stood in
the room.

he stood in
the room.


burrow into sadness


then to remember,
we are governed
by our hips-
gyrating into
nonexistence.

8/8/08

Short-term Americana

dirt road beer

piss mile in

duct taped

cowboy boots

cutting

backstrap

on a dented

tailgate

8/7/08

LOOKING FOR FEAR

...so then I got a job deflowering
noxious angels on this big blue
marble that seems more like a
Tidy Bowl commercial to me...



Subtle changes take too long.

8/6/08

Them Or Us

the psilocybin is in the portmanteau near the foot
of the bed where Dr. Phil is sucking your heavy
nuts inside an odorous TV on a rainy night in
Portland just a couple of blocks away from Powell's
City of Books where one of your earliest volumes will
soon be experiencing spontaneous combustion in
a parthenogenetic book buyer's hands

8/5/08

BEER RUN

these wasted days
the wasted nights
not recognizing
your face in the
rearview just for
that one second
when you question
yourself and your
weak-assed poetry
hungover in an
America which has
no talent no derring-
do no tolerance for
for your own bilious
breath filling the
inside of this
25-year-old car
with the ether of
those beat and lost
long before you

8/4/08

WHAT YOUR SKELETON HOLDS UP

I am looking out at you
from that album cover
Merle Haggard Pride
In What I Am

Friends

then what

8/3/08

LOVE POEM FOR EVAN WILLIAMS

under my thumb in
the midnight hour w/
mystic eyes when the
music's over won't
come back from dead
man's curve cuz freddie's
dead

already

8/2/08

STOP-MOTION HANGOVER

like bodysurfing
The Wedge
high on glue