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.
__________________________________




11/27/10

From The Tear Stain Lounge

the angels don't give no
change when you pay
your dues so hang onto
that box of wine and a
few favorite photos it
won't get no better just
because you're in the
club and a university
has your shitty poems
locked away in a climate
controlled room some
of your best friends are
dead and this ain't the
same country you went
junkin' with your grandpa
in so you might as well
stay and listen to a few
more sad songs the wars
and hatred will always be
king but because she was
your first choice and you
ain't with her that's what
makes the jukebox play

11/22/10

Go Read A. D. Winans

I can recall
back in the day
when I payed
attention to any
of that pop bullshit
I read this thing
in the LA Times
where Beefheart
was claiming
"I can't even buy
my old lady a
nice coat, and
where is that at"
and I've always
remembered that
when he opted out
so I am telling you
my bitch is flat
fucking freezing

CLEANING GRAVE

a couple of hours this
late May afternoon
the hot wind blowing
dust through the
headstones at the
Paiute Cemetery

I reshaped your mound
with rake and shovel
after discarding the
faded cloth flowers
and broken vases
to replace them
with others of vibrant
color and gemlike glass

one more year and I
like to get a few days
jump on the Memorial
Day crowd who come to
clean with their picnics
and unflavored talk
and be alone

just you and I and the
wind

how the hot earth of
your grave feels like
your breasts and stomach
as my flat hand
molds the heap

remembering the many times
just like this you and I
cleaned the graves of
your children and unknown
relatives who perished
on the now long gone Rez
in back seats of grey
black cars clutching
onto precious bottles
that held the miracle

we were sometimes half
drunk ourselves and those
nights my flat hand
would mold your flesh
before you took me into
you the soil of graves
on our hands mixing with
our sweat creating the
finger paintings of
our lives our love

now I kiss and tongue the
heart on your headstone
before standing up
ceremoniously with a
quart of Miller's in
my hand proud of my
work

a Janitor at the place
of the dead

always having to turn
and walk away towards the
places of the living
where only memories can
conquer the dust and
these tears mean
nothing

11/20/10

Jitterbug

loraze)
pam

11/16/10

Time Without The Word Time

you the
I
am

somebody

if things
have
names

11/13/10

If Today Is Your Birthday


You're only
dead once.

11/9/10

IMPERMANENCE

rise to civilization

it is written out

moments
born of
recollection

of forgotten tasks
of holidays

the drawn out clarity
of the sad song

the integrity of
others swarming
around the broken
doll

in so
many words

we will have another

as the night folds
around intoxication

and the anxious
ages wait

11/8/10

CROWDED MIRROR

closer to possible closure

"God is still a liar"

11/6/10

What I Can Remember At 60

reciting the psalms
from a Tijuana bible
with a Prince Albert
tin full of pot in a
Pendleton shirt pocket
on a handjob backseat
night under a towering
screen that lit up her
purple eye shadow
with some extravagant
bloody gunplay before
any of us had ever died

11/5/10

FOR THE BEER

picking up my
Indian partner
at his place
today

waiting for his
sister to get
kids together

my human dullness
standing in the
living room of
the double-wide

finally he says

looking up at
walls of photos

this picture here
of me and all my
partners only
two of us left out
of the six

others died from
drinking

this here my brother-
in-law with the
two deer dead

here's my nephew

dead

my other partner here
drunk dead his whole
family in a car wreck

fucking dead

then his sister
comes back in

says yeah you and Fred
will be up there dead

in'nt it

and we all go out
together for
the beer

11/1/10






SOME

Some will dress up as the deceased.