Her arm carries
The compass rose
Pointing North, South, East
And Best of all
Is her
Soft mutter in
Between cigarettes.
In a darkened
Bar on main street
She sat still
Enough to **** me.
2 in the morning
I gave her
Waffles
syrup
And a kiss.
I tried to push
Her further
And it only pushed
Her out
The door.
More than ever
I want more.

he sits on the bar stool beside her
                            too skinny
                            his flat wrinkled forehead
                            lifts brown bushy eyebrows
                            but he does not speak to her

                            she is blonde of course
                            perhaps 23
                            also skinny
                            a flat chested go go dancer
                            from new york city
                            el passo
                            bakersfield
                   ­         miamichicagomontreal
                            denver…­

                            she is with someone else

                             he thought she was his
                             but now

                             as a friend
                             she would like to buy him a shot

                             tired eyes narrow                            
                             he  stares at her as if he
                             has never lost a job
                                                                      ­                                     
                             as if no woman
                             brunette red head or blonde that he has loved
                             whose name he has tattooed onto his arm
                             has ever left him
                             as if the mail man, the priest, and his mom
                             are spitting into his stupid face
                             as if god has kicked him in the nuts
                             as if his dog has bit his hand as if
                    
                             this could never have happened to him

Big Delta airliner racing overhead , I pray all her
occupants have safe travel this gorgeous Spring day
A passenger from Atlanta scoring a big business deal ,
an elder , excited Grandma on the way to see kids in
Bakersfield
Young soldiers headed home for much needed leave ,
a blues picker leaving Nashville bound for New Orleans
Students headed back to Texas Tech , Notre Dame and
Villanova
Newlyweds on their honeymoon to San Diego , an Engineer with a meeting in Guadalajara , a family reunion in Texarkana* ...

If you were lonely, or sad inside
Right next to you is where I'd be till the day I die.
I'd walk the 286 miles, from Bakersfield to Vegas
They would all laugh, but I would be shameless.
You are a great friend, one that cannot be replaced
My time with you, would not be put to waste.
Staying up all through the night
sitting in the dark without a light
Writing this poem, just for you
Hoping you will love this too
Those weeks we spent in a hellish place
I'd exchange for just a simple taste
To hold you close, never let go
To be the string, that holds your bow
To fight for you, hold your sword and shield
With only my heart in my hands to wield
I will try my best, to not let you get hurt
I'd pick you up, and dust off the dirt
For if you fall, it will be into my hands
I'd carry you across the sands
So Rosey Rosey come out to play
I won't be the one who betrays.
You know a secert of me noone else knows
One that I do not let show
But I am glad that you now know
I feel like I don't need to hide
Everything I am inside
Rosey Rosey Come out to Play
By your side is where I stay
waiting for you outside your home
Never leaving you alone
So Rosey Rosey, come to me
I want to give you a key
One that leads into my heart
One that can't be broken apart.
My shoulder is yours for your tears
Protecting you from all your fears
I will not allow you to fall back down
To the hole that is in the ground.
I will lend my helping hand
Pick you up to help you stand
Hoping that I can make you glad
So please cheer up, don't be sad
I promise that your smile will be real
Always stating how we feel.
So Rosey Rosey, open up
I will never let you up
I will give you all my time
So you know that you are mine.

Sitting on a throne of stacks made of poems,
He rules, or thinks he does, up on his mountain.
He hates a rhyme more than
The buzzing of a fly or scuttle of a rat.
They remind him of his paucity of skill.
He rolls a magazine tight
Swings it at the rhyme, “****, ****!”
He shouts.

Up on the throne, he rambles onto paper
Vers libre, je crois.
Looking down, he sees thousands of admirers,
Coming to hear him read
His old poems of war and death, and lost love.
Only a daughter, who is “hot”, for him to ogle.
They pick up girls and eat chicken.

The past is a patchwork quilt to him,
Ragged, frayed and faded.
He screeches out memories!
Then doodles them onto the cloud,
He loves to brag
About his computers, his awards and his printed stuff.
It is all he has.

Old man staring out at the oil rigs
Of Bakersfield, he can’t rhyme about that,
The run-down houses and cracked streets.
Browned like toast by the driest air!
But he has been places, studied things,
Allegedly—what does he remember?
So he is proud, insolent in his old age.
Who can tell him what to write?
Only his publisher.

Whilst patrolling my fortified, Nazified, sub-tropical Florida region
I see that **** George Zimmerman's whiter than a blond Norwegian
in his self-appointed role as a *****-shooting Europoidal European
who pimps ***** to roll dipsomaniacs at Sanford's American Legion "Only **** babies in self-defense" is the unaborted rule that I live by
& "don't never impregnate no black gal who was born a black guy"
It's a-o.k. to give Sanford pigs some name that's but a phony handle
ike Kent C. Well, **** Too Tight, Robin Banks &/or Tony Candle,
Gaye Barr, Anita Bath, Harry Azcrac, Dixie Normus, Stony Mantle,
Nida ***, Lou Stools, Buster Cherry, Dixon Butts or Bony Randall,
plus Argentina's well-rotted, crapped-out actress hag Olga Zubarry,
who lived to bury ****-*****: Pork Chop Annie & Polka Jew Perry Mongols grow Occidentalized by Walmart's imported Chinese trick
& even ******-rich richer than a Bakersfield-deported Chicano hick Litters of swimmin' kittens are escaping Oscar like did Felix Unger
from the Apocalypse of Fukushima's China syndromic helix hunger Polite folk accommodate futt-bucking ******* by calling them gays
just as Wendy's accommodates idiotic patrons by giving them trays
For U.S. marines *** rights are earned during their boot-camp days
like when David Hasselhoff spent his T.V. time bay-watching bays,
in the era Reagan occupied his senile mind hoarding guns with rays while selling Latin American Marxists missiles to prove crime pays during our presidential-election cycle in its suspended-reality phase when Hawaiian babes charge nothing for their flowery, virginal leis
to celebrate the Hawaiian Babes' Free Flowery, Virginal Leis craze featuring tropical ******* & purpley nips guaranteed to amaze
in the orchid-rained-in-depths of our historically blue-blooded haze upon the moon's far side where-from souls are dispatched by Grays
there are no Jimmy Swaggart-$10-Johns anointing ***** with praise
while damning hell-fire Christians to the horror of a martyred blaze

I almost cried thinking about you.
Your soul
all the tall tales you spun
spiders dancing across the stars now
I miss you
I never knew you
I want to
so badly
it hurts

You'd hate it here
they bastardized you
sold your words for a dime
those jewels you saw in the night
rocks.
just rocks.

that is, now
Nobody wanted that fantastic ruby sky
and ****-green mossy aquamarine
now we stare at screens.
screens.

They'll kick you off the train
eye you with suspicious gaze
if they catch you all alone
spun along some interstate

We can't do what you did anymore
try as we want to.

No running from the law
or responsibility
or inevitability
or anything quite like that

and the only time i spoke to god
he told me there was places for me to see
somewhere for me to be
someone for me to meet
and i still don't know
what that means...

I didn't have no writing buddy
my buddy left for the dusty drone of Bakersfield
and now i'm all alone
Disenchanted and enthusiastic
about all the things everyone hates
and the history that keeps sifting
like sand through the lobes of my skull

Jack, come back
give me a minute or two
maybe a vision of my wildest dreams
I'd love so much to talk to you

I keep dreaming and seeing the beauty that lies in the center of the
Tao, that long winding tao
of ancient street
with no shoes worn here in San Francisco
that imaginary terminus you dreamed
not here, silly me.
I started here
you wound your end through here

I don't know what mine'll be
Not a hemorrhage
maybe
of the brain
since that's where my troubles lie
or my prostate,
since that's where my vision lies
yours was the stomach
that great trust in gut
it let you down
and lifted you up

God didn't give me that at all
he gave it to you
oh how freeing that must have felt
to know
truly

Nobody can force me to drink
as much as
I can drink alone. Company
loves misery. So does
pleasure. God
had a revelation
that he likes candy. Nobody
held it against him. Hymns
all around: 99 Bottles,
George Thorogood, Ernest Hemming-
went away into the Paris night
or New York or ******* Bakersfield,
the leaves or the sand or
my hand clutching
my other hand. “Write drunk, edit...”
never. The land
is laid like a sheet of paper
over a gravel road. A toad
has it right when his neck
bubbles to hold his secrets,
and pops. Hopping on cops
is what happens when a pull-over
pulls me over. A job can only be held
with callused eyes, with fresh breath,
and a friendly-ish smile. Don’t hawk up too much bile
until you know
your boss’s rules. Your boss doesn’t rule!
Anything he says is an apology
for sinning, cheating on his wife,
and it’s your fault. Who else
would conceive
such a beautiful child? Who else
is there in this world? When strings vibrate,
they vibrate everywhere, and elsewhere
they are. Sound commences
and ends within a second, but
that’s much longer than my life,
my name. Nothing
strings together if you use metal. A block
of clay melts into you.

Christmas parades Christmas parades all over this good world
Full of clowns and floats and Santa Claus yeah a party for everyone
Commentators covering the event from their box and on the road
Kids cheering the parade entrants on as they pass right through saying
** ** ** merry Christmas dudes
What a day what a day
Everywhere
Bakersfield, Winnipeg, Disneyland, Perth, Adelaide and the combined Christmas thanksgiving parade in New York
What a day what a day
Party with people cheering as they march right down the street
Saying merry Christmas and happy holidays to the people
Yeah that is rather sweet
Christmas parades Christmas parades yeah the party is on for young and old and let's get down yeah let's get down and party and say merry Christmas
Jingle bells and feliz navidad as we sing about the time when a child is born of Mary's boy child
As the angels come up and sing
Christmas parades are so much fun ready to party for everyone
Enjoy your parade and happy Christmas