Another Bottle Turned Purple

I'm smoking a joint with Jesus H. Christ
you know the motherfucking Savior
and he's sitting there changing
bottles of Evian into fortified wine

so I tell him can't you make any
better shit than this even at Wal-Mart
this fucking water ain't cheap
man damn

and he looks at me with that calming
dip-shit smile he has and that pisses
me off so I try to rattle his cage

I ask him so where'd you park the
spaceship and who's watching
the rig this time Santa or the
Easter Bunny asshole

but that don't phase him one bit
he just fucking glows with that decaled
face he's got what a lame

then he hands me the reefer and I sit
drinking another bottle turned purple
wondering who he's got on the Super Bowl

After The End Of Poetry


those
who
create
meaning
are

those
who
benefit
the
most

from
the
destruction
of
meaningful

things

While Drinking Hurricane Ice

some kind of
fucking bird
sitting on a
snow covered
branch of the
choke cherry
tree outside
my window
just looked at
me took a gray
runny shit then
flew back out
into the blizzard

DO YOU
REMEMBER
WHERE
YOU WERE
WHAT WERE
YOU DOING
I SORT OF
REMEMBER
YOU COULD
DO WELL TO
REMEMBER
DO YOU
REMEMBER
DON'T EVER
FORGET THE
DAY DO YOU
REMEMBER
WHERE YOU
WERE AND
HOW YOU
FELT OF
COURSE YOU
REMEMBER
WHERE YOU
WERE WHAT
YOU WERE
DOING DO
WE EVEN CARE
ANYMORE I
REMEMBER
COULD YOU
PLEASE JUST
TELL US
WHERE
YOU WERE I
REMEMBER
SO CLEARLY
YOU COULD
DO WELL TO
REMEMBER
I FORGOT TO
REMEMBER
DO YOU
REMEMBER
ANYMORE

DEMOCRACY

an elector
craves the
burger

enhanced by
advertising
before

supernumeraries
blow Iraq off
TV

Bukowski Cut-up

"Europeans deserve Bukowski."
-William Burroughs, in conversation


1
and the birds come
down to pick out my
eyes it does seem a
miracle to see anybody
alive strange eyes in my
head they wait on death
I keep practicing death
things are good as I am
not dead yet laughing at
nothing and here come
the armies ta ta ta kill
myself or love myself?




2
smell porkchopsin a Philly bar
was in a barfornicate like mad
symphony music nowout to crap
I hate the artsdead on a sunday
a new can of beergo mad or even
and I criedthey play Bartok
oh my dear godanother drink
bellies hanging outto his radio
rose with a cursedays like this
pick up the skirtdie a little earlier
and the weepingthe last pink sun
dying is justifiedpansies in a glass
now I am a manworms laughed
the virus holdsand I didn't care
all has gone awayradio playing
fish-green beerI watch her butt
white dishtowelpoem is a city
talking of deatheats my heart
another placebeat again feel




3
sunlight
wall
sunlight

doors
getting haircuts

I drink
I drink
and death

sham, man

XANADU HOEDOWN

I shot a scarecrow


and hit a man

HODAD STRUT

human donor egg

"as you should
never exist"

TO A BROTHER

for JMR on his 62nd

waiting in a long line of
memory to get one
glimpse of you back then
handsome and half drunk
in that LA sun more crimson
than the Red Mountain
we drank lifeboats of our
poems smelling like panties
the drugs just an
afterthought and
criminology a subject
yet to whisper our names
how many highways
shimmer now with the
runaway ghosts stretched
out before us like one
long solo they ain't
looking back why should
we look back not much
time left now man it's
just another hangover
another small time hustle
check out her ass there is
nothing left to prove
it don't mean shit
to a brother

El Payaso

Yo llevo el abrigo de mi hermana.
Ella tiene una aguja en la mano.
Da lo mismo.
El circo es muy divertido.
Yo busco gusanos.
Ella esta escribiendo en su brazo.




The Clown

I am wearing my sister's coat.
She has a needle in her hand.
It doesn't make any difference.
The circus is very amusing.
I am looking for worms.
She is writing in her arm.

RECESSION

I withdraw
from my
poverty into
the skeleton
of my child

I wear its
gorgeous
jewels

do kiss me