knock knock
I don’t care who walks into a bar
or who’s there
or how many so-and-so chickens
it takes
to screw in a lightbulb
or what the lawyer said
to his shoe or what religion
the shoe was
I’m not waiting
I’m not waiting who
for the punchline
of that joke you’re supposed to tell
all dirty
and when a phone rings in the bar
& is Jacques Strappe there?
I’m crossing the road
and you shouldn’t have to ask me why
Breath stinksOf brandy.The woman, the drink.The first girl I ever slept withNow worksFor Brown Forman.She’s still drunk I guess.
by R. L. Wisdom
it's too god damned hot
i feel like ending it all
when will autumn come?
murmur aria “there’s a voice there,” says her mother babble traffic in all these ways she speaks to me
—BASIC. 756* "Toss the ball back." Like they did in Wrigley when I was young. When a home run meant the ball left home & if you wanted it back you had to run after it as it rolled down Waveland...
26
Out in a field,
Weaving a wreath
Of cornflowers
27
Head hurts, sounds
Of the faucet upstairs—I don’t
Want to write any poetry
28
Reading on summer porch
Surrounded by oak and maple.
Beyond, useless world
29
Squirrels the lorax
To my bygone yellow patch
Of sunflowers
30
Alas! A sound the dog and I
Both thought could be her car
Was only a weedeater
by the cbw helicopters, distant hammering, trees rustlin, plants tussling, a crack-house green-house, dirty white chairs, car engines, pots, pans being pounded, faint TV (very faint), craigs list furniture, ants, a dangerous looking hammock nestled in the ominous shadow, some pot, some water, some sot who sought to wrought a write under a rotten umbrella, … Continue reading distinct observations of the 1st kind
Sky chopperKnows all the traffic.Barges float on,Down the river,Under bridges.The clouds signal weather;The banks give time and temp.And I find yet another reason.
21
Shy but rugged stars
Have hiked the hills
But never walk the streets
22
I could spend all night
Viewing the moon and writing.
Or I could sleep-dream
23
The cop who stops to weep
On the shoulder of the road
Slows a thousand speeders
24
Caught on the tracks
After tagging a train car.
Second coat still wet
25
When a cry for help
Is hard on your health.
Saxophone doth wail, wail
Home, going back home. ToWhere my parents live, stillLive, on the other side of my oldRoom. It’s filled with treasuresOf forgotten days, theTreasures now forgotten themselves,Sunk to the murky floor of my life’s oceanAlong with pencil-hearted notesAnd the odd extra-base hit I managed.I go home, look around. I alwaysExpect to find something.A twenty stashed away … Continue reading Maybe I’ll Find Something I Can Use
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