Tuesday, September 14, 2010


1320 AM
Early morning terrors
ghosts and bad visions beset by a rough cough
but the road was empty
so I did 70 smoking 100’s
all smooth
watching the hills and hovel cities

trying to escape (for once)
the drunk and selfish nobles
by way of a northern ocean town
called Paso Robles.

-August 7th, 2010

My room smells like bad coffee
which is better than
semen and shameful longing.

I pour a cup,
and remember that I need to
retrieve my flask
from Heidi —

the next time I’m out,
but booze would be alright
right now.

What do those old china men

I gave them seventy-five cents
outside the dry cleaners,
and they told me to follow
the good

In my life
and I’ll be happy.

I try to call, but the rings
fall head first from the receiver,
like always.

Out a buck with the madness
creeping in, I try to remember
what I did yesterday
but cannot recall,
and shrugg.

Burning grass and wide eyes
while I pick up
some wet, wet whiskey
to fall into
amongst the cheap darkness.

-September 14th, 2010

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