Tuesday, April 22, 2008


only guy on the last bus
music, book and I
pass those same stops
same spots
just the dust and exhaust
no cloud of contained human smells
watching lights of all kinds go by
cross the bridge
light on the water
peek out my window into all the other windows
and write


that wavering pain starts like a walnut in my shoulder
works its way down my arm
until my hand goes numb
wonder what it is while trying to ignore it
it'll pass
systems functioning less efficiently than they once did
felling rusty, kind of

Sunday, April 6, 2008

4:43am, April 6, 2008

usually when I try to write feeling happy I turn out shit
I assume tonight will be like any other
on the topic of shit,
my farts now seem to smell exactly like my infant son's poop
and I was right about time speeding up for any of you
who give a flying fuck
I'll turn around here in a little while and be an old man
crotchety to beat all and with a bunch of useless advice
about cooking, fucking and home repair
s'been a million years already and that's just half
so I should feel lucky to live so long