Small-Time Editor
I bring the small cat out
with me and say
"You can't drink beer!
Get! Get! Shoo!
Which one would you like
to read?
Oh! This one?"
So I give him the last paper
to push its way through this machine
and he starts by biting it
I guess you have to test
the quality of the paper
before you can read
the poem
I was saddened by it
and my cheeks seemed
to grow heavier
when he shredded it
as if it were made of burlap
stapled to a an old scrap
of two by four
I said weakly
"Thank you, small cat.
I need your honesty
else I would turn this in
to a PUBLISHER
and we would both look
very ignorant of the ways
of the poem."
I could tell by this point
the small cat had done
all the reading he cared for
He begged to go back
inside and I give you
this
That's Not Bad
The analysts make me smile
the mothers make me smile
their daughters make me smile
when they grin
"What does it mean?"
What was the first
poem I had published?
She dangles her legs
off the deep end
I swim a cat amongst carp
Something of that nature
speaks volumes
if a picture is 1000
then a word is 1
I tell them that day
"I got published!"
I was happy
and went to bed smiling
for the first time
in a decade
but it rings in my ears
"What does it mean?"
and I take the first exit
"It means whatever
you want it to mean"
Like and artist
That poem above
my virgin poem
may not be word for word
put in digital ink so long ago
but it is close enough
for deconstruction
It's about honey
a long drink of sap
who put herself out there
and I am one of two things
A feline on the side of the pool
stretching a paw deep to the fish
or a bottom feeder swimming
with another fish deemed
inedible in America
Truthfully
I wrote the phrase
"A cat amongst carp"
several years before
I placed it in that poem
and I only did it
to get published
Put It In Ink
Recuperation is the mortar filling the cracks
holding sleeping beauty however sexy
to fix a hangover
It takes water
It takes a bloody mary
Champagne and orange juice!
You say to the waiter
"Do you think you could just bring a pitcher?"
He responds in his rehearsed and authentic accent
"I bring you three drinks friend!"
You think to yourself that one of your sisters
should date this guy but I'm sure he has
no short list of women to call on a Tuesday
Then he walks off and you think only to yourself
That commie is fit, man. He fills out those jeans
I know damn well I don't have and ass that fills out mine
How do you get that? It must be genetics
You also think to yourself alone
If I were to write about this
it would make me out to be queer
maybe write about it but change
the goddamn RED with great triceps
and an ass that fills out his jeans
into a tall blond with D's
and big fake fingernails
yeah, perfect
put it in ink
West Port
When I get to Kansas City
the few times a year
I step lightly into a ready-made
spring (or summer) trap waiting
laid before me
and she always knows
how to have a good time
This time I told her
I'M OFF THE SAUCE!
before I knew it we were
shaking hands with the professional
football players, watching
a fatter gal light up the fiddle
at a piano bar
and I was drunk
people were being thrown out
for as little as flashing their pussies
on stage
a short, hairless, chubby
kid must have thought the applause
was universal and dropped his shorts too
but he didn't get booted
and I wasn't getting kicked out either
so we left
We coasted smoothly the few blocks
to her car but were bothered
by a quartet of high school street
"musicians"
the tenor sax player asked
"Dollar for a song?"
I said no
and asked him to impress me first
So they played and played
when they were finished
I offered them credit
for wasting my time
The singer adjusted his Target fadora
and asked me
"What did your mom say
when you grew that mustache?
Mine told me I had to shave it off."
"She was the one that asked me to grow it
so don't be too hard on her, son."
With those parting words we crossed the street
I pissed on Westport
got in the car
and it was a good night
after all
When The Dogs Are Sleeping
I sit in a late 80's model camper
thinking what I can
the obvious things like
"I wonder what Neil Young is doing tonight?"
but I won't lose sleep over it
if I can ever get there anyway
We all wonder the same
what the others are doing
RIGHT NOW!
but we shouldn't
I know what we are all doing
right now.
We're doing all right I guess
My girlfriend is sleeping in the house
My dad is sleeping somewhere by a lake
and my friend David who paints on his walls
is stoned
but sleeping by his girlfriend
above the hot streets of West Wichita
Neil? He had his glass of wine
and crawled in bed hours ago
and I am sitting in front of my machine
in a late 80's camper
writing this
