Monday, November 16, 2009

headlights and halos

The tips of thumb and forefinger

Stained brown from smoking

Other peoples castoffs

Drizzling rain falls gently

Changing the days perception

To that of a dream

I stop and watch a girl

In mukluks and a miniskirt

Hurry into 501 Markham

Crossing Broadway looking

Ahead headlights and halos

Rush toward me

I pick up the pace

A little and wince at the

Painful blister on the

Heel of my


Sunday, November 15, 2009

A Boones Farm song

serenades us

as we stand outside

a mom and pop store

in the same


that our parents

first kissed

its hard to dance

When your

drunk and there

is no music

but we would

be in love

so very


lustful youth

lingering kisses


and spring

Friday, November 13, 2009

Play For Me

The trains
Play for me
At night as I
Lay in melancholy

Some predictably
Like Johnny Cash
Others with head swaying
From side to side

Urge me on Jack
And never come back
In the voice of
Ol blind Ray

chunka chunka
chaunka clackity

I lay keeping time
With my pen tapping
To the trains
And the great songs

Gone by

Thursday, November 12, 2009

I got up this morning feeling down. My bedroll faces the rising sun and the thin nylon walls of my relatively new home do little to soften the first lights assault on my whiskey pounding eyeballs. Charlie had left with everything he owned in the middle of the night after I spoke maybe a little to harshly, but he is a surly son of a bitch when he consumes large amounts of cheap Vodka and I already had a headache building from the T.W. that I had drank that day. Babs was gone , he leaves every day at about five A.M. to go and catch out at the day labor place. It was still pretty chilly but I decided not to wear long sleeves I had left a sweater on some church steps yesterday when I got warm so I figured today wouldn't be much different and I just don't have the clothes to keep that up long. I dug around and found some of those little doughnuts that have the waxy chocolate on the outside, but their was no water left so I didn't eat them. Stepping out of the tent into the day, I listened to the sounds of squirrels and birds and dry leaves blowing across the ground and started towards the River Market area. I passed through the train station parking lot with only a brief dirty look from the security guy so I figure things are looking up. After a couple of blocks I pass by the Sally where the last of the gang that comes to eat breakfast most days are standing around involved each of them in their own thoughts and conversations, save one, who shouts out to me asking if I would like a boiled egg. The Salvation Army serves them most days, so I say sure and think of the goodness that still surprises me sometimes in my fellow man. I see a couple of guys that I know on the opposite corner I will let them remain anonymous since one of them works in the Sally and the other sells crack cocaine out front and it would be at the least social faux pas I believe if I named them. Maybe even life threatening. They were smoking a joint and shared it with me. So by now I had no doubt about it, things were looking up. I walked a couple of more blocks and found a coffee cup from a joint at the Market that features free refills, in this case totally free. Enjoyed a cup of joe, walked into the library and kicked it with The Rolling Stones, had a couple of bowls of soup for lunch, grabbed some clean clothes at the clothes closet for my Poets Roundtable meeting on Saturday, then I hear that Charlie caught out today at the day labor place so there will be twice the money for dope and booze tonight. That is if he is not still mad at me. I don't imagine he will be though- things are looking up.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Typical mouthwash warning label: In case of accidental ingestion, seek professional assistance or contact a poison control center.
" I wish they had told me that it would kill me forty years ago"-Mouthwash Jimmy
Mouthwash Jimmy is a friend of mine. His camp is just a stones throw away from mine. Jimmy is among other things a drunk. He is maybe one of the nicest and smartest people I know. I have only seen him drunk on a couple of rare occasions, but there is no doubt that he does enjoy drinking when you see his weathered face in the mornings, and as we are friends he makes no bones about it. I do see him almost everyday at the public library pouring over books about science and history- in depth and obscure topics, things that are beyond me most times. He sits quietly at a table all day filling page after page with notes on a myriad of subjects and then at the end of the day he imbibes, at his space that he has made his own, as best a homeless person can. Many times we have shared conversations about classic literature, early Rock music, and the strange world of addiction. I have asked his opinion on poetry that I have written and took his critisisms to heart. This morning Jimmy sat next to me at breakfast at th salvation army and told me he had a book for me. Over the week-end he went to the book sale at the Central Library and came across a Nortons Anthology of Classic Literature and he thought of me. This is a man who has so little resources that he has forgone store bought alcohol in favor of cheaper mouthwash, but he saw a book for sale he knew I would enjoy and got me a gift. I will never get over the complexities of homelessness and th homeless. Thanks Jimmy!

Friday, November 6, 2009

Me and Charlie

Me and Charlie wade into briers stumbling
Rear foot rushing to find balance
We are heavily burdened
He has a cardboard load and I
A stolen tent

We hope its all there

Hiking along the railroad tracks
For a place to be home
The fix (angry or otherwise)
Must wait for this work
To be done

Last night we broke into a house
And lay down to sleep
A half pint
and a quart
Our only lullaby

We eased out this morning

The thorns and ivy open up
Inviting us to stay
And Charlie smiles as I drop
The bag that I carry
Landing with metallic clink
And stability

Later we'll meet Thomas and get high


About Me

My photo
I struggle with addiction and am just recently out of prison- I dislike most people and am bitter and self destructive. Yet somehow I have a good time. My first wife wanted to be an FBI agent when I met her in college, and the last one was a prostitute,the former gave me three great kids that I named Dakota, Skye and Willow, the latter a hell of a hard time. In the past I have been a busboy, a waiter, and a bartender. I have worked in nearly all construction trades including carpentry, brick laying, electrical, weilding, and plumbing. Once I had a job where I climbed tree's for a living. I fought Mixed Martial Arts when they still called it No Holds Barred, I have sold cars and was an editorial cartoonist. I am a failed actor, to lazy to try very hard, and lived with outlaw bikers in Northern California. I served as a medic in the army,and studied creative writing as well as radio tv. I cook a mean breakfast and like to sit and think sometimes all day. Did I say think or drink?