Category: poetry

3/2/91

~~Warm, afternoon~~

The Straight Man

The character actor

sits alone, ~~in his dressing room,~~ ~~behind~~,

m_sturbating, a piece

Saran-wrap is spread

out across his lap

and part of the sofa,

he doesn’t want to

leave a stain.

“Goddamn leading man,”

he says as he spurts,

“He even gets the ugly

ones, like he’s the only

man ~~out~~ on earth.”

He carefully folds up

the Saran wrap and

sets it down inside the

waste paper basket, beneath

the newspaper and orange

peels.

He takes a shot from a

shot glass and returns

the whisky bottle to its

drawer.

Character actor was not

an ugly man.

On the contrary, he was

very funny. All the

pretty showgirls cackled at

his innumerable one-liners,

cast off like crafty fisherman’s

lines.

He had a funny face,

too. But not in any

negative way, he just

funny in a cute, reassuring

way. He had a ~~scarlet~~, forthright,

~~bulbous~~ bulbous nose,

puppy cheeks, and large

red lips that often curved

themselves into smiles

of infectious glee.

“So why can’t I get

no dames,” he thought.

But of course, he knew.

Got ~~was~~ just one man,

Dashiel West ~~Artie Carney~~, the straight

man, the leading man.

He was damnably

handsome, had the

~~smooth, Chester,~~ G.I.,

sloping forehead of European

royalty. Suave and

precise, each word that

escaped his lips was

like a dart, hit the

bullseye, smooth artifice.

It was a movie set,

the most movie

Hollywood in

T. There were

Artie Carney – the character actor

Dashiel West – leading man –

straight man in comedy team,

had in USO in WWII, auto race

took his life, but saved A.

kept id of

“I’m the f_ckin’ adorable

one, Dash, it ain’t fair”

“Grow up Artie, you’re six

~~years older than~~”

3/2/91

In the end you take your stand alone. no one gives a shit. The eye of the world all fixed on self. Your lung a deep black hole in my own chest.

Why my ask a girl aphrodisiac I We swallow up into little islands of flesh, the air between us expands, till the atoms are torn apart and it seems merely a sea of ~~two~~ elementary particles and I am alone in the universe. Your eyes flicker, supernovas across these perilous distances.

II

Alcohol is a lubricant. We laugh and dance, I ~~love~~ take your arm, spin you around, maybe even grab a blushing breast, (but it’s enough just to touch my hands) You touch my face, whisper “wicked, wicked”

I could almost kiss you, but I forgot how.

(always some blond girl all in black and drooping shoulders and hips)

III

But what is it? Today my mind absorbs itself.

Why does the Pope drink wine?

(Look I even cleaned my room for you, even hid my pornography) I can’t even reach your feet, the distance is too great, even the machine has been turned off, and its great blinking eyes are closed.

We read poetry, but I can barely feel the warmth of your calf.

2/27/91

— If you study too much, you’re neglecting your education. – Live!

Every morning, when I wake up, I feel like Rip Van Winkle, the stubble has grown on my face like an unkempt lawn, and my mouth tastes like a cemetery.

2/27/91

I understand it.

The junkey is the most

profound expression of

desperation.

They tell him to

~~leave~~ it or leave it,

so he seceeds from

America, into his own

country, the country of

his own mind. ~~He~~

Hippies tried to change

things, and when they

couldn’t change it,

many of them became

junkeys, alcoholics,

seceeded from this

country, into their own.

This doesn’t mean that

this is right, and its definitely

self-destructive, but that’s

what happened.

Jimi Hendrix & Dylan

were great, because

they were able to

transcend the inherent

limitations of the genres

that they chose to work

through.

Jimi started out

playing the blues, but

he had so much more

to say, that he expanded

and shattered it to

reveal a whole new territory.

Dylan did the same

with white folk, He

started out imitating Woody Guthrie,

but when he came against

the wall, he burst through

it, because he had too

much to say.

They both embraced new

technology.

I was very angry

today, I was frustrated

with everything, and I felt

like I wanted to kill

everything.

I felt as if the

whole system down here

was created against my

most basic feelings. This

place is a sterile denial

of youth; its like a

spaceship. It was supposed

to be utopia, but it’s

so safe that you could

suffocate. There is nothing

organic here. Like a

spaceship, even the soil

is imported.

They try to deny our

most basic instincts, and it

makes me angry, frustrates me,

so, I just ran out to the balcony

and yelled “Fuck you Irvine, I hate

Irvine, Irvine can suck my ass.”

Then Maria told me that I was

being inconsiderate, I said sorry,

I was having a psychiatric period

but I felt much better after.

2/25/91

As Grandma shoved

me into the oven, I re-

alized just what she meant

when she said: “We

must to fatten you up.”

I thought that she just

enjoyed cooking for me and

I felt a bit betrayed as

she turned up the temper-

ature and I relized that she

~~was~~ really enjoyed cooking

me!

I thought ~~that~~ she had

such a big oven, so

that she could cook more

for us kids, but she

really had such a big

oven just so she could

cook more of us

kids.

Still in shock, I

loosened my collar and

wiped the sweat from

my brow with my

stained handkerchief.

Grandma approached

the glass of the oven,

“So sonny, how’s school?”

“Oh,” I replied “It’s ok,

raised my C in Algebra,

I”

“Wonderful, I knew

you could do it,” said

my grandmother, as

she reached in and

daubed me with a

lemon butter glaze.

In retrospect, I guess

I should have forced

the baster out of her

hands, or fought her

off when she put

me in the oven. After

all, she’s seventy-two

~~and~~ with terrible

arthritis, and I’m eighteen

and young and strong.

~~I~~ I suppose it just

seemed so natural; to

be eaten by my grandparents.

But of course they

didn’t eat me. Miraculously,

my parents came early

to pick me up, I just

heard snatches of the

conversation through

the thick glass of the

range.

“This is it, this

is the last time that

~~he’s coming to you~~

I leave him here,

mother!!”

My mother was hysterical

she’s a very emotional

person, she breaks up

easy.

She pulled out of the

oven, as she yelled “never

again, no more, no more!!”.

Grandma and Grandpa

waved at me as mom

pulled me into the

car.

“Bye, bye Brian,” they

called, smiling radiantly.

“Bye, bye Grandma

and Grandpa, see you later!”

2/24/91

Everybody’s got just one thing to make them happy

Father Grolikin always talked about life’s little pleasures that came in the middle of his sleep.

“It’s not sinful, I read a book, it just happens, I’ve got no control. It’s just one of life’s little pleasures.”

Father Adorlin was very old, eighty-four

well beyond caring.

But Mark & Timothy thought a lot, all the time, maybe it was a sin or maybe they just couldn’t help it.

Firemen – drama/ comedy

“We must to fatten you up,” said grandma as she pinched little Tommy’s red apple cheeks.

Tommy never did trust his grandparents, he thought there was something strange, down- right sinister, about ~~their~~ their dietary demand,

“Boy, you lookin’ a little tiny,” says Grandpa, belly shaking as he laughs.

They get rid of real prose. Use lectroff use disney musicians instead — angst or anti-wish School Teacher psych.

– well can’t get altered as much when you’re older because when you’re stoned or drunk, you go into yourself, but as you get older, you have to give more time for others.

2/15/91

1984 is a very very long time. Seven years since authorities, temper tantrums. Seven years since hiding in grass from home buddy, Seven years since I been twelve.

1984 is a very long long time.

Seven years since Ronald Reagan, but we still wavin’ flags Seven years gone ~~but~~ Nobody talks about Big Brother, But I’m still scared,

Seven years

1/23/91

When Grandpa Joe

was about 85

he got mean.

Not just ordinary,

old-man mean,

but hateful mean.

All his teeth fell

out, and his

lip flopped in over

his gums.

And his balls shrunk

and receded up into

his wrinkled, shriveled

abdomen, till he became

just one little ~~vein-y~~

ball of hatred.

Once a ~~month~~ he’d

put on his old

American Legion blue

and gold cap and

play color-guard for

the Forth of July parade.

He’d ~~grin~~ chew his lips

and mutter to himself —

“God’s angry, I know’d it,

God wants war.”

Grandparents want to fatten grandchildren

up, because they will eventually

eat them:

1/13/91

Fatman rules the world

Fatman owns my house

Fatman got the mortgage papers

Fatman’s not my grandfather,

He’s got no beard, he’s got

no hair, his mouth is soft

and wet.

Everybody works for

Fatman, he’s got your

punchcard on database

Fatman’s not the President,

Even he works for him,

Fatman doesn’t get elected.

Fatman lives at the beach.

He looks ridiculous in

Arnette glasses, but nobody

says anything.

Even he complains when

the oil slick washes ashore,

Then he goes back inside

To check his Texaco stock.

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~~We’re only children,~~

~~Too young to drink~~

Drunken in the night,

But I’d really like to

know just who gave

You the right to send

us to die so far from

~~our~~ their eyes.

I was watching TV

Just the other day,

And I wondered, just

who has the right,

To send anyone kid to

fight so far from his

mother’s side.

We’re only children,

But we know what’s

right,

Got to stop listening

To leaders, got to

follow follow ourselves,

The whole world wide.

There’s always a fat

man on a hill, gonna

send us somewhere someday,

You’re a soldier now, a

man, but he don’t

understand.

Dear Susie,

Though you’re far away,

I still hear your voice.

There’s no oxygen, and the

moon is somehow darker

than it should be, but

your voice lingers among

the grey sullen boulders

and ~~yielding~~ soft

crumbling craters that

dot the surface of this

desolate little speck.

Perhaps I’ll leave next

week, when the shuttle

comes again.

Every morning reveals

another fortune, the stones

here are filled, so

precious ~~metals~~, filled

with fantastic alloys of every

grade.

But every morning’s

another hell, like Dante’s

inner circle, hell at

its deepest is cold and

small and lonely, like

this place.

But it is warm in

here, and the quiet is

nice, maybe I’ll stay another

month.

1/10/91

As you get older,

Gravity pulls the corners

Of your mouth down

and down.

When you’re an infant

you emerge from the

womb with great

crying baby smile,

But when you die

an old man, even

The mortician can’t

wipe the frown from

your face.