"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. __________________________________
has found a wide array of marine debris inside the bellies of dead birds, a wide array of marine debris has found a wide array inside, including "six lighters in one chick, a complete syringe with the needle, a small flashlight, various small light bulbs, combs, toothbrushes, parts of flip-flops and fishing tackle." inside the bellies of dead birds, during that time, he has found a wide array of marine debris. A proportional amount in a human being would weigh nearly five pounds during that time in a human, "It's a plastic ocean now." "No matter where you are, 25 billion pounds in tiny bits of plastic looking out over the Pacific into the world's food chain, say those inside the bellies of dead birds no matter where no getting over it no getting away from it," he says.
she felt pretty Beat in the rain out front of City Lights with a run in one black stocking an obvious slight to the moment but most things pass in a flash if she can remember correctly like now fifty years later
this neck cocksucker at the store counts out my cans a nickel a piece for deposit and he tells me you know next month this law takes effect where you can't pick up any beer cans off the highway anymore and I bite why is that man I ask because they're Indian artifacts HA HA HA and that was pretty funny I quess but on the way to get the 12 pack out of the cooler I pocket a bottle of ibuprofen when the fuck ain't looking because I'm hungover and way too fuzzy to remember there is so much more to pain
when Greg Hall calls drunk on Beam don't wake me up I'm only 27-years-old and I never put the cap back on the Tapatio so you tell me why do fools fall in love I took back the night only to get gang raped in broad daylight because I wanted to live a million years without getting bored in my danskins now I'm butt hurt as if loving you too long didn't really make me feel right like what the fuck is up with that the rock is still my pillow and you're still talking the blues but it's only me shooting the finger to the sky
a split lip battling the Spics but they kissed some car doors themselves so that don't even count with the Crown Royal or the reds or the broken hearts from all the white bitches with the opalescent eyeshadow who grew up in the San Fernando Valley and gave the best head you ever got when Thee Midnighters rocked Joe Yokum's world but go figure ESSE GUY how'd you get that lace to stay before you spray painted your ride so pretty or how'd your momma get that carnitas so tender fuck YOU ARE MY BROTHER so cut the shit put your piece away that was Inglewood motherfucker the change came when Keith utilized the fuck-up with his amp on Satisfaction just a cunt hair down the road from Going Home when we were strong on Sunset Blvd. with the 4-Track blaring what we thought was freedom happy and lost long before we became old men lengueta que besa los angeles
sleep will always rust when you're dead fumbling with Jesus' handmade thumb piano to ward off the tall children with foul tempers who re-upped to get you through the night with no bad dreams so the rest of us could kill you all over again