"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. __________________________________
ONE OF THE GOALS OF THE SWINE FLU VACCINE IS DEPOPULATION
one time I was smoking a joint with John Giorno over there at 222 Bowery talking about those very early found poems of his and he told me man that's like looking at baby pictures and that was pretty cool if you think about it digging somebody's work then finding out they don't even give a shit about it at all anymore so then once in Santa Cruz during the Red Night Tour he was telling me Bug Death was a bad title for a book and that could be right I haven't read the whole thing through in almost 15 years just those revised sections I've worked on but I'm too old for it now if that makes any sense like those moldy photo albums at a yard sale full of faces you can only wonder about for at least 30 seconds before you go over to check out the LPs
forget sewing memory it's like taking pills who counts after awhile until those mortuary restroom walls start closing in and you don't feel so good it's the same thing why remember anything like Manson said "don't think" or Jon Voight in Heat too cool to fucking care even though you think he might or Ayler doing Universal Indians with his alto lyrics defying all subvocal speech because nobody would have remembered if he was only talking to himself
to Junkyard Rob, guitar playing motherfucker, horseman, friend
SPRAGUE RIVER --A missing Sprague River man was shot in the back of the head and then buried on the property of a woman accused of murder- ing him, according to Klamath County Cir- cuit Court records. Deanna Brindle, 47, of Beatty has been charged with the mur- der of Robert Kincaid, 54, who disappeared from his Sprague River home July 7. A body believed to be Kin- caid was found in a shallow grave Thurs- day on Brindle's prop- erty off Drews Road in the Tablelands area between Sprague River and Beatty. "Deanna Brindle shot Robert Kincaid in the back of the head with a 4-10 shotgun while at her residence," according to a probable cause statement filed in Klamath County Circuit Court. Kincaid was last seen July 7, leaving his Sprague River property for an 11-mile horseback ride. He was riding one horse and leading another- er one.
a good friend and colleague who edited this prestigious East Coast lit mag once told me over a few shots of Hornitos how Bukowski one time had sent him some poems with a note saying "if you don't like these, I'll write some more" or some shit like that and I thought that was tits just about to the point if you're King of the Mountain like these Rock Stars singing about being poor and I went home to go reread The Roominghouse Madrigals
the stains in your shorts can't really match the stains in your heart from everybody leaving you all alone and don't even mention the claymation of your fucked up liver or the lost hours stained with too many false hopes brought to you by Dr. Death it's not your time chavalo so fucking take up whittling and watch your back the poems only last so long and you don't have too many left before your next prescription