56
When I watered my jade
With Schlitz
Of course it died
57
To set the clock
I look to see what time it is
While holding the missing clock
58
It’s been weeks
But finally I hear it —
The rain
59
Stuck but not
Dead in winter
Plotting Spring
60
If someone came and
Hacked to death whatever —
Quiet home
Solid investing always slowly develops a taste for bad flirtation. Vacation rental, cucumber petal: Sipping on the tea of Colombo — Oh yeah, just one more thing...
Nightmare ham, dateline America. Tonight's top story: the inimitable error: the journalists all died at the truth. I'm stuck reading about this left-behind sense of beds made poorly — pissed in then slept in then folded like cardboard. Next time will be a different screw-up. The great, big puke-off was only a rejection of any kind of appetizer fresh from the ocean & served with marinara.
Over this side
And steel.
Most moisture
We’ve seen in months.
Rusted linoleum
Tractors cowed
By the slender whim of God.
Banks?
There are no banks.
This is why you don’t wait.
People gonna make mistakes, sure. But
This is p’cisely why you never wait.
Waitin’ for rain, for the aqueduct.
Waitin’ for the war to end,
For interest rates to move.
Nobody in this family waitin’ for a goddam thing.
Well, sure we dropped a well.
And dropped it,
And dropped it.
We found that, ah, cone of depression —
Some bottles of dirty water.
Our poor Mother, ya know.
She loaned us udders of water,
Buried deep down in her soul, like.
Sandstone-lined. All she had.
We was just children then.
So
We gone back to readin’ the clouds.
They’re beautiful really.
Cirrus curling into nothing
Way up there. Just ice crystals
Casting down white light.
There ain’t s’pose to be such a thing as white light.
But I tell ya: I seen it.
I’m going on record with this
Because I’m in plain need of an elegy.
Sawbones gave me, oh, a few months.
Don’t matter much.
I came from this land
And I’m going back to it.
Now I’m telling you:
I want a Viking’s funeral.
If you can find ‘em, throw a thousand husks
Of corn onto my pyre.
Take fish from the hole I leave in the ice.
Despite everything I’ve said,
Regardless of whether there’s snow on the ground,
Whether the crops rise,
Whether anyone’s left to see me go.
Third cup.Jazz.A man is talking with Ray the barista.Hum of refrigerator.Coins. Tip money dropped in a glass jar.Coffee maker — frothy release of steam, metal stirring along metal.Drums. Piano. Saxophone.Fridge door closes; cushioning.Ray greets a customer, “How’s it going?”She orders a latte mocha triple shot.Talk of parking, a popular topic this morn.Coins again.Ray laughs.Air ducts … Continue reading Coffee Shop Audio Sketch
by the cbw I'm not feelin' you The way I wanted to (existential clues) Where is that grindin, And my soul asks why? Cake means two things And I ain't eating Like a man w/o a mic Or a pulpit, soapbox; Pursuing moby dick. Q: give me a coffin So I cannot be Lonely, on … Continue reading Carbon imprints
It took two stones butat least I got one. At least I got one of 'em. At first I was tryingto kill two of 'emwith just one stonebut it wasn’t working.
I was in the local dive
when the President walked in.
We talked,
but not about politics.
He said something
about a banana having
a good youth form.
I was like
Good youth form what the hell is that.
He said about how
a horse could have a good youth form.
We really just shot the shit.
It was fun.
I always figured it would be.
(Unknown sender)(No subject)(Blank body)(Not signed)
Poor chap, that tramp —his beauty confiscated by filth; Left to pray mindless ly in the gutter, in arrears to the street; At church for his tea-and-two-slices his offering but a burned-up blade of grass and still he prayed; O, heaven, my galoshes are glummed, my ears beaten by duns; O, keep me, even though —
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