Ghost Story

I am painting a picture of a ghost I dreamed about last night I drank too much went to bed early woke up in the middle of the night because I forgot to brush my teeth smoked a cigarette on 28th Street my wife wondered where I went when I returned she said I thought you left me why would I do that I was counting rocks I said getting the perspective correct is difficult ghosts cast no shadows even in dreams they are as elusive as healing pools wisdom or a well designed house in a canyon of fools with a fast river flowing through.

?

I wonder
What will happen
When my
Neon Budweiser sign
Burns out.

A Pretty Good Song

He told me in a bar in Jackson Hole that he would write me a song. I told him I can always use a hit. A month or so later I got a tape in the mail from Montana. It was a simple love song that my band and I recorded in three hours, in my studio, in the basement. It made it to number three. I always liked him. I wish it made it to number one. I’ve recorded worse songs that did.

Sun In The Eyes

The sun was in my eyes.
Sometimes, you need more than sunglasses
To shield yourself from that bastard.
The radio wasn’t coming in too good.
I had a headache.
My old lady was pissed because I did all the dope
Just to get moving.
I told her to shut the fuck up,
I make the bread.
But it’s stress nonetheless.
You should have turned left.
What?
Left, you should have turned left.
My bad.
I did a U turn.
Took the prick
To his house.
He gave me ten for eight.
Not too bad,
But
I feel like shit.

Decline Of Western Civilization

In class
We were asked
To ask
Each other a question.
A lot of students
Asked about favorite books.
Some students
Said
They did not read enough
To have a favorite book.

Makes this student
Of twenty-five years
Wonder
Why they wouldn’t be happier
In a factory
Or
Digging a hole.

Yeah
Yeah
Yeah

I know

They’re
Too
Good
For
That.

Brianna

My mother calls
My uncle
The doctor
He’s a cab driver
So I don’t know why
She calls him that
She says it has to do
With my grandfather
And basketball
I call him Mister
I call everyone Mister
He calls me Stump
Whatever that means
I guess it doesn’t matter
What we call our friends
My mother says
I have to go to bed
Right now
So I guess
I can think about this tomorrow

Listening To Johnny Cash In The Middle Of The Night

Snow falling cold wind

Whiskey strange sweet dreams burning

House of love machine

Landscape

Cold water sunshine

Light purple mountain rock slide

Smoke over the hill

Remorse

Yesterday
I waited

For a sign from
God or you while

Blue birds
Sang death songs.

Widow

A bottle of gin
Sits on a wood table
Guarding your kitchen.

I am a ghost
With a terrible thirst
And a sweet disposition.

So let's have a drink.

Muddy Waters

Sometimes I feel
like Sylvia Plath

Or

Sometimes I wish
I could feel like Sylvia Plath,

While she was depressed
She wrote im -
(that I've never understood - truth be told)
- mortal Poems

On her (self inflicted) death bed

Like Ulysses S. Grant,
(He wrote his memoirs while he was dying of cancer)
She stepped up and
Created a masterpiece.

(Ariel)

Sometimes I wish
I was more like Ulysses S. Grant.

When I am depressed

I lay around and
Watch TV all day.

Rick's Teeth

We were standing on a bridge between Columbus and Phoenix City forty feet above the Chattahoochee River. We were on our way back to the barracks after spending most of the night in the Holiday Inn bar. The bar stayed open 'till five on Thursday and Saturday. We had to be at the pack shed by seven thirty so we split after the last ugly girl left about four. Kevin had to take a piss and we all thought it would be cool to piss off the bridge and after we did we stood there watching and listening to the river.
I’m going in, Rick said.
You're nuts Kevin said. I agreed. Joe said why not and took off his shirt. Rick jumped onto the railing, smiled and did a pretty decent swan dive. We lost sight of him after he hit the water. Shit Kevin said and ran down the bank. That’s fucking crazy Joe said and put his shirt back on. Kevin found Rick and dragged him out of the river and they staggered back up the bank and got in Rick’s car. You guys coming? Rick yelled. Joe and I jumped in the backseat.
Are you OK man? I asked.
No I am not, Rick said and spit blood out the window. Half my teeth are in the river.
Did you look for them? Joe asked.
I think I broke my ankle, Kevin said.
Was the water cold? Joe asked.
We should have pissed in the parking lot, I said.
I’ll drink to that, Rick said and popped open a beer.
You have another one? Kevin asked.
Rick gave us all one and we drank our warm beer and kept our dark thoughts to ourselves while Rick drove us back to the Fort. We all had a shitload of parachutes to pack in a couple hours (except Rick he went to the hospital) and maybe that's a metaphor.

A Sentimental Review Of A Long Lost Rock And Roll Show

A long time ago I read a book by Brett Ellis and he kept referencing the band X so I bought the album More Fun In The New World and eventually they came to Phoenix. They opened for Warren Zevon. My brother and I shared an ounce of mushrooms and my brother drank ten beers on an empty stomach before the show. He yelled quite a bit and loudly and redundantly throughout X's set. The guy sitting in front of him looked like the tennis great Ivan Lendal and said, "we paid for our tickets too." My brother politely said "sorry man" and almost fell into the guy's girlfriend's lap. X looked like they hadn’t bathed since the tour started. They played a very fine set and then Warren Zevon came out and I’m not saying he blew a great band off the stage but he kind of did. This shouldn’t have surprised me but I'm an idiot and Warren Zevon was supposed to be a has been and part of the dreaded establishment. Now twenty some years later Warren Zevon is dead and X hasn’t done anything good much less great in over ten. Most music sucks but I still love a good rock and roll show. I saw James McMurtry not too long ago at the Rhythm Room and his set reminded me of his father's great short novel Leaving Cheyenne for some reason and that gives me a little faith in something at least.

Ram's Head

Ram's head

On the top of a bookshelf
Peering down

I bought it
From a guy in
Cave Creek

Who needed dope

He can be
kind of creepy

In the right light
And shadow

She was lying
On the floor

Laughing

What happened
I asked

I don’t know
She said

Are you OK

Hell no

Black Canyon City

He gets off the bus in Black Canyon City, fetches his duffel bag, and lights a cigarette. It starts to rain. He pulls a sweater from his bag and puts it under his field jacket. The cigarette tastes good, he hasn’t had one since Phoenix. Fort Sam Houston seems a million miles away and so does that other place he needs to forget. He needs to forget a woman too.

He pulls his jacket over his head, grabs his bag and jogs down the street. Fuck, he thinks. This isn’t fair, I should be happy. By the time he pulls into the bar it's pouring and he's soaking wet.

He orders a whiskey, gets carded, pulls his ID out of his wallet, sits and waits. She asks him where he’s been. Do I know you? He asks. We went to high school together. I was two years behind you. Oh, he says. So where have you been? I don’t know, he says. I’m trying to forget. Cool, she says. Do you want to buy me a drink?

Mid - Night

So when you pick up a couple thugs at a 7 – 11 and they sit behind you speaking a language you don’t understand and you wonder if they are going to run, or pay you and leave a decent tip, or stick a knife under your chin and tell you to give them your money it’s hard not to be a tad racist and forget that people can speak your language and blow your head off for no reason whatsoever. Nonetheless you get a little nervous so you try and make small talk but you can’t get a gauge on what’s happening so you go with God and hope for the best and you damn well better be prepared for the worst.

When I Was In The Army

When I was in the Army Ronald Reagan was the Commander In Chief. I thought he was a stupid son of a bitch who didn’t care about anything but himself and his rich friends. In the proceeding years my opinion of him has softened somewhat partly because of the Bushes and their idiotic unnecessary wars that may have got me killed or riding around in a wheel chair. Those bozos make Reagan look pretty good. My buddy Rick told me that if he thought I meant it when I told him I’d shoot the prick if I got the chance he would kick my ass and he could have. Rick was a tough dude. I do mean it man, I said (but I was just talking like a man with a paper asshole) and handed him a beer. You shouldn’t say that, Rick said, guzzeled the beer, climbed a tree and dove into a shallow creek. Your turn, he said. Not in a million fucking years.

Nothing is Easy

She sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, watching the window. The picture she observed changed subtly, not in slow motion but almost.

He walked into the kitchen, grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and asked for a cigarette. She handed him one. What are you looking at? He asked.

A tree, she said and smiled. What are you doing today? She asked. Nothing, he said. It’s hard to do nothing, she said. Is it? He asked. Maybe not, she said.

He left the room and turned on the T.V. Is watching T.V. doing nothing? She thought. I don’t think so, she said to her dog. He barked. She gave him some food. Do you want to go for a walk? She asked.

They walked down the driveway, picked up the mail, took it to the house, set off across a cornfield into the woods.

When they returned she poured water into a dish and found him asleep in front of a football game. She took a sip out of his beer and saw his buck knife on a table.

She thought about slitting his throat, move over she said. He groaned. How many beers have you had? She asked. I don’t know count the empties if you’re that interested.

Sledge Hammer

As a sledge hammer

Pounds a spike into the ground

I wait here for you

Crash And Burn

She thought
I crashed
Like a parachute
That didn’t open
I saw a guy
Leave a crater
In the ground
At Fort Benning
In the middle
Of a track
In front
Of a fair sized crowd
He went splat
It wasn’t as funny
As it sounds

I didn’t crash and burn
No matter what
She thinks
I’m still standing
Or kneeling
Anyway
It is scary
Jumping out
Of airplanes
Keeping women
Satisfied is
A sucker's game
But I didn’t crash and
Burn
No what matter
She’s been saying

Airport Bar

I was sitting in a bar
At the airport
With my wife

We missed our plane
It was all my fault

According to her
I’m an idiot

Instead of arguing
I’m getting drunk

She’s on her cell phone
Talking to her brother

I hope she talks
All night

I think

Lift my my empty glass
Wink at the bartender

He had to stop for cigarettes
She said

True I admit
To myself

And now he's spending a fortune in the bar
She said and gave me a look

He's such an asshole
She added and shut her phone

I'm going to the bathroom
She said
Try not to get lost

Waiting For Something

She was watching the window.
The sky was bright blue,

Cloudless
And sun drenched.

A bird landed
On an Oak tree.

A Robin
She said

To herself
While her husband sat on the couch

Reading a book about World War Two
And watching golf.

Ladies Man

walking home from your house
with a hundred dollar bottle of wine
i stole from your parents
i thought
i shouldn't have done that
oh what the hell
i laughed
it will be a drop in the bucket
once you get to know me

2020

The last record store closed last night less than a mile from where I sat with my wife's cat in my lap listening to an old Mott The Hoople album. I couldn't go browse because someone double - parked a bright pink house in front of my apartment. I watched a pretty lady do the dishes, heard a couple of fights, a guy fixing his bike made a lot of noise (a slew of unruly kids hanging around), a football game, a show about gay guys raising their illegitimate son in one of their parents' house next to a dirty river downtown. In the Midwest or the Middle East or Alaska for all I care. It 's pretty easy not to. My wife and daughter are in Chicago for the seventh game of the World Series. My daughter (she's fifteen years old) is dating a player she met on-line. He hit 260 with 7 home runs and 32 RBIs and makes 30 million a year for his trouble. Last night he struck out with the bases loaded in the bottom of the eighth. That happens. It’s not the end of the World Series and like my father always told me we still have to get up in the morning. Unfortunately a fan shot him while he was walking home with my daughter. The guy who shot him said, you’re an asshole. He's in the hospital. He told my wife and daughter to go to the game, pretend I’m in left field, he said. I can’t watch the game. My lights are out. So I sit in the dark, smoking and wondering why science fiction is always so depressing.

Crack Run

A guy gets in my cab with a baby girl
It's been raining for four days and the streets are slick
Do you have a car seat
I ask
No
He says
We have to wait for my mom
He adds
A couple minutes later she shows up
I shouldn’t take you without a car seat
I say
We just pray to God
She says
A car seat would be more effective I think
Where to
I ask
Seventh street and Buckeye and back
She says
Will you do it for forty bucks
She asks
I’ll do it for whatever the meter reads
I say
I will be in and out
She adds
The baby is on her father's lap
I shouldn’t do this I think

But I'm as greedy as they are stupid

Poor kid I think

Lou Xuejaun

Seconds
Take years

To shave off

Then comes
The hard work

Tenths of
Seconds

Separate
World class from

Immortal

Gone

Last night
I believed in you
Tonight
I know
I was wrong

A bitter glass
A sad song
Every thing
Is broken
And scattered
On the cement floor

I don’t remember
But it happened

You’re gone

MPS

A dust storm was brewing. Outside a little town, a helicopter flew over a foothill. Hutchinson and I were sharing his last cigarette in the shade of a bombed tank. George Bush is an asshole, our prisoner says. That ain't the point, I say. What is the point? Hutchinson asks. I don’t know. Staying alive. Going home. Playing catch with my kid. Getting drunk. Fucking my wife. I’ll drink to that, Hutchinson says, takes a slug out of his canteen and hands it to me. George Bush is an asshole, our prisoner repeats. Yeah he is. Now shut up or I'll blow your ugly fucking head off I say, take a swig and give Hutchinson back his canteen. Can I have a drink? the prisoner asks. No, we both say. You guys are assholes. True, I say and point my M16 at his chest, however, I've had enough of your shit. So have I, Hutchinson says and shoots him three times in the face. Everyone’s a political scientist, Hutchinson adds. Yeah, let’s get out of here, I say before someone finds out we just shot this dickhead for no reason.

Picnic

The sun shines sparingly. Three horses move snow with their noses and eat grass while my father and his cousin rebuild a barn with wood my father took off another barn he tore down with his brother. My brother, sister and I run around chasing our tails like monkeys five million years ago. It is cold as a death song on Sunday. My mother brings us egg salad sandwiches. We sit on a fence and eat.

Is it almost time to go home? I ask. I want to watch the Packer game.

Truth

Some people think honesty is important in a relationship.
I don’t give a shit about the truth.
Tell me a story. Make me want to believe.
That’s love.