whiskey before the show haiku

DE-EVOLVED &

woke up on tobacco road.

O' psycho break downs!

12-3-08 in which travis uses " I " alot.

Yesterday I was driving down Grand avenue in southeast....

There was a stack of paper. Bound. No lines. 3 ring holes punched on the left margin.  Somehow this booklet or notebook or whatever it was had made it out into the street.  The pages seemed crisp and clean in the wind.  

Grand is a three lane, one way street.  In northeast it loses its way a bit, but in southeast, Grand avenue runs parallel with south bound Martin Luther King Blvd.  The paper was flappin around...layin about half way between the middle and right hand lanes.  As I passed, i could see that most of the pages were blank.  The holes punched in the pages seemed like little spy holes, each searchin for that half inch of world they could see.

I drove on.  Bored by myself and driving a boring way home to do nothing, I just stopped concentrating on the road as I hit a corner.  I jerked the wheel and the car lurched around the bend.  I saw quick flashes of holes punched in paper framing out the snaking kink in the road.

I couldn't see what was written or printed on the paper, but I wanted to.

this time...

this time they'll make it...

for i have stood here before
alone-----naked-----womanless
i've turned to them to console me in the past
then, the loneliness dies...
i forget.
i neglect.
i put a dull selfish blade to the spleen of the innocent and turn
slow.
no water.
no light.
no music, no love.
the room becomes a desert
even the cacti cannot survive
the blood pours from their bodies
down the bookcase
over my record shelves
across the hardwoods and out under my bedroom door

but, this time they'll make it...

for here i stand
alone----drunk----womanless
water can in hand
wine bottle in head
piranhas in my guts
this time i've my copy of how to grow house plants
sunset books- copyright 1974
this time i've an east facing window
a south facing window
time
a typewriter
a case of cheap wine
records
paintbrushes
water.
light.
love.

this time they'll make it...

Slumber fights like a dog

Long tongue wakes me up
Licking all over my face
I kick her out of bed
And she pouts in the corner
Like a little girl
So sad and hurt

Her big browns flash back
At me and I give in
I give in every time
She crawls back under
The covers and her tongue
Comes out again
I throw the sheets on the ground
Waking up my lover on the
Other side of the bed
I stand up and scream
"Stop licking my face!"

And tomorrow starts the same

Pill Train Haiku

snapped branches seem street wise

   in the boring grey-brown 

             snow blur drive by jerk

PATCH

i've got a patch/tattoo almost drawn up.

Hot Water Music, by Charles Bukowski

The first short story or poetry book is Hot Water Music, by Charles Bukowski

The Naked and The Dead, by Norman Mailer

First book assignment picked by Dan is The Naked and The Dead, by Norman Mailer