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.
__________________________________




11/28/08

THIS WAS WRITTEN WHEN I WAS 19-YEARS-OLD, HITCHHIKING THROUGH OREGON:




POEM IN MEMORY OF ALAN WILSON

this is my opinion nothing
goes for sure we can
take life can't give
death back want to
suck out your hole the
outlet/fingers vibrate/
(arms crisscrossing
like all the telephone poles
along Highway 101 collapsing)
/sounds of a cat
with hairballs choking
then they play the
national anthem
when the country music
station goes off the air/
("...every town is the same
as the last, the future
looks worse than the
past...") the winos
with the shits on Grant Ave.,
S.F. I know/where
are you sweet Gypsy Norman
Tibet-Alaska-maybe back
to West Virginia where
are you Hip Eddie
(wearing M's sunglasses: "They're
rapping what we rapped
ten years ago, man!")
where are you M!
this light bulb this
12' by 15' room also today
waiting/carrying boxes
of food for the
people at the Abundant Food
Center no one wants
to work they are
Americans hick/primitive/
rustic remains of 1850
the only colored people
come when it's
potato picking
time (the Deputy Sheriff:
"...we're proud of that...")
you can taste
the discrimination/
America is dying/
I remember coming across
from Canada the fat
decadent border guards-American/
"...want to check your
things..."
"...what for..."
"...we're told to check everyone..."
"...how come that family in
the Cadillac got through
without being stopped..."
no answer
then they wouldn't let the
French Canadians across
not enough money/
"...fuck your country..."
oh yes-yes what
are borders tear down
those walls let's
all copulate the open
road the open road
Arizona/Utah/Texas/Montana
/too spoiled America
is too soft GET OUT
love it then leave it
sure those sweet
young hitchhikers
"...ass tight, all night..."
oh my god oh
my vision of god the
highways are too
surreal remember
Debbie drinking whiskey
with that old sailor
in the Jaguar
from Monterey a
living Hemingway/
the way we acted each
other's part/
America is dying what
did Kerouac say: "...a
rucksack revolution
...millions of Dharma
bums going up to the hills
to meditate and ignore
society..."
yeah that was early 50's
look now Mr.
camper/trailer/tourist/truck
driving/DYING AMERICAN
look those fuckers
with thumbs out/
everywhere it is
happening!
it is happening!
react/
take a razor blade and
slit your eyeballs
while gazing into the
rear view mirror what
is there to see-
there is
nothing like some asshole
staring at me when
I am not even there



-Bend, Oregon- Sept. 1, 2/'70