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.
__________________________________




8/31/10

8/29/10

Lucky Now And Then

so after the reading she came
up in those caramel eyes and
blah to the blah I gave out
another free book that if she
kept for 30 years she might
be able to sell to augment the
cost of her three mandatory
minutes on The Department
of Human Resources' suicide
machine but anyway later at
the bar she had claimed she
was on Monsters Of Cock and
let's party baby so yeah yes of
course fuck yeah yes another
drink please and that was
scary shit but I quess if you're
a woman you might as well get
totally reamed out and stretched
apart because it is a specific need
but I just like to run the shallows
first then nudge there up against
that hilt gyrating my fat drunken
ass a little bit enjoying myself
because I'll never get to be on any
Subatomic Elven Cunt I just put
out stupid little booklets of poetry
hoping to get lucky now and then

8/27/10

Shadow

they always have told me
you're gonna get it
asshole and you know
what I fucking got it but
I'm still here to talk about
it and it ain't shit just
another shadow crawling
the wall of impermanence

8/23/10

I Hear You Son

long long road of
darkness got no
end 6 plays for 25
cents whiskey and
whites living out a
suitcase general
delivery City of the
Dead Angels 3
fingers measured
across her notch in
tight jeans mister
can I sit on your
hog living in a lie
under an asphalt
sun because the
ticket never really
exploded it just
burnt our hands

8/19/10

Only An Expert

living out here in the country
I'm somewhat forced to listen
to a lot of the crap on NPR that
comes out of Ashland and this
evening I had to laugh because
Laurie Anderson was on with
her signature insipid shit and
once again it reminded me of
one time visiting John Giorno
in early 1980 NYC when a
couple nights before that I got
to see her perform somewhere
I can't remember but I was
telling Giorno that all of that
amazing technical stuff she used
was totally wasted because she
had absolutely nothing to say
and I knew she was his girl he
put her on one of his records and
all that but he fucking agreed with
me and said he told her the exact
same thing and that was very cool
so anyway tonite I changed it to
some Mexican channel before she
could finish and I opened another
cold beer right as those Tejano
accordians took me hacia abajo

8/18/10

The Greater Extent



NEW YORK - New Yorkers raced against time
Friday to reveal the secrets of a mostly intact,
18th century sailing ship found in the muddy
foundations of the World Trade Center re-
construction site.

8/12/10

LAST BLOG IN AMERICA

nothing to be done here
I regret it all now living
like a fool because of words
you should see my shoes
split open at the top I
couldn't become a janitor
again not in these I couldn't
be a janitor again in any
shoes and you got to be able
to run to shoplift in three
years of dicking around
on this blog I sold ONE fucking
book off it and I'm shit tired
of explaining what that means
to me figure it out the rest
of you cocksuckers I am
pinning you right through
this white screen like a sniper
when you're stuck in traffic
turn your head look sunflowers

8/7/10

Dissembler's Apprentice

all of my life I've been
a flea market/swap
meet fucking SOB and
it's been like being in a
brotherhood not too
many secrets are disclosed
just like with the carnies
but it's all a dying art now
upping the price depending
on the customer's mood and
you're riffing because all of
the shit came out of a goodwill
box or someone's sidewalk
trash can just like when I was
9-years-old selling with my
grandpa in this big open field
with all the others teaching me
you can't regift the grifter

8/5/10

The Taste

now this is one thing
I did consider back
in the halcyon day of
mailing your poetry
submissions around
to the different mags
was taking that SASE
you sent along with
your shit and putting
poison or LSD on the
flap a fucker would
have to lick then close
to seal it along with
your rejection slip but
I didn't go that far I
just wiped it up and
down my filthy ass
crack or dragged my
encrusted dick across
it and that was it
so only I knew what
Small Press editor
should get a taste of
Nettelbeck and which
one would actually end
up fucking liking it

8/4/10

Slight Sunning To Front Cover, Minor Staple Rust, Scarce, $500

if you can't
go on
you can't
go on
that
I'll go on
bullshit
is only
to impress
bartenders
and social
workers
maybe the
occasional
skank
at an
open mic
but
my honkie
dig
that big
picture
if you're
tearing off
your
shirt pockets
to wipe
your ass
in an alley
in the
rain you'll
sure as
shit get
some
fuckhole
to publish
your first
chapbook
of poems
so at
least then
for
awhile
you'd have
toliet paper

8/2/10

Owl Dance

years ago I took my
Paiute girlfriend and
her kids to the pow
wow over there at
the Stronghold
where Captain Jack
pissed all over what
back then was an even
more uptight white
America with their
grace and Christian
revulsion ending in
the Modoc War and
the parading of his
severed head around
the country in a jar of
formaldehyde but at
least the badass
motherfucker had
popped a cap into the
skull of a U.S. General
and that's the kind of
shit that I can get into
so anyway me and the
old lady were pretty
hungover and she was
dealing with the kids
and I was sitting on a
stump four rows back
into the crowd staring
at the ground and they
had called an Owl Dance
and the next thing I
know I'm staring at a
pair of beaded moccasins
and I look up at this
beautiful Indian girl about
13-years-old in a buckskin
dress who just chose me to
dance with her and she's
motioning to me to let's
go and I was too fucking
sick and I told her baby
girl I can't I can't and
she was adamant but I
couldn't do it no way and
that's a major insult so
she started crying and
ran off into her mother's
arms way across the field
and that might be one
of the only times I ever
felt shitty about being a
drunk but it's funny I
still kept on drinking