1866 Big Nose Kate ran away from foster home age 16 stowed away on Mississippi riverboat bound for St. Louis then headed west to Dodge City she rolled the dice with many men played her cards close to her chest poker faced until she met Doc Holliday for him she laid open her hand he a year younger Big Nose Kate was Hungarian long fingers toes lust for life food *** a fiery inquisitive engaging soul who enthralled Doc Holliday with intellectually equal wit affection loyalty hairs that grew from tiny mole on her arm she didn’t believe in politics or the law solely in Doc Holliday his quick temper failing health lightning quick draw of his gun did not worry her she offered up the world to him Big Nose Kate was a beauty large green gray eyes small ******* furry brown mound perversely devoted to Doc Holliday she followed through thick and thin his ash blond hair unassuming Georgia cadence classical education convulsive cough her lips could not resist even when he had nothing left she wanted no other man Big Nose Kate drank Irish whiskey neat ate steak and potatoes stood 5’8” lean as a rail stubbornly stuck by Doc’s side even when he got hot-headed muttering harsh drunken curses



BIG NOSE KATE you seem all twisted up inside want me to give you some relief right now (her hand reaches between his thighs)

DOC HOLLIDAY i got too much on my mind woman blackjack in Prescott didn’t exactly pan out that was bad enough what the hell are we doing here in Tucson San Augustin Feasto and Fair my *** (coughs) i ran into Morgan Earp in the hotel lobby

BIG NOSE KATE Morgan Earp huh what does he want trouble is my guess dang you promised we were heading north to Colorado

DOC HOLLIDAY promises (coughs) promises there’s problems ahead i got business with Wyatt and his brothers in Tombstone need to ride down tomorrow (taps walking stick to floor) i fear for your safety Kate it’s best you remain behind

BIG NOSE KATE i’m staying right here with you ain’t leaving your side wherever you go

DOC HOLLIDAY ok fine (coughs) we’ll get a room you lock the door and stay clear of the windows until this mess is done



lying in a bed looking out open window late October breeze full moon in starry night sky Prescott 1940 Big Nose Kate feels heaviness in her heart stirring in her stomach remembers a day 59 years ago in a room at Fly’s Boarding House a man sitting at corner edge of bed with his hands covering wet eyes in a choked raspy voice whispering that was awful just awful she gently placed her hands on his shoulders this man she so completely loved then reassuring spoke it’ll be alright we still got each other

none of you understand what i’m saying is i’m not like any of you never married never parented children never owned real estate don’t believe in government the law hate rich people not afraid to lose everything risk life for the chance at a better life yes i graduated from Philadelphia dental school practiced medicine several years dashing handsome cordial Georgia physician yet knowing i was dying then of tuberculosis i wanted to feel alive know danger taste possibilities ******* greedy ranch and railroad barons all you cotton gin grist mill moguls loud mouthed Yankee carpetbaggers bounty hunters self-righteous snake oil preachers with your fearful farmstead flocks what the hell do you think Big Nose Kate and me were doing in Tucson why i risked my life at Tombstone’s OK Corral i’ll tell you why because we were desperate beyond your comprehension long-drawn-out careworn hours twisted in desperation insufferably plodding nights so desperate Kate relieved me daily yet in back of each our minds we understood we were both slaves to ancient unfair corrupt economic system that provided enough whiskey to cope desperate for money allegiance shelter frantic enough to face loaded guns aimed firing at me it was hell on earth glaring sun beating down desert dust blowing burning eyes bullets cutting everywhere 1880’s revolvers lacking accuracy even with expert gunsmith modifications young men riddled with bleeding gunshot wounds in 6 years i was dead age 36 hey Kate was no cakewalk she was a ***** who knew how to play me flirting charming admiring exaggerating her strange Hungarian lust encouraging provoking prostituting on her knees back tummy fingers mouth managing somehow to become acquainted with Arizona Governor George Hunt then surviving to age 90 you modern day sleepers who read this rambling cower at airport security passively submit to insidious militarizing culture invasively inspecting camera scanning for cuticle scissors nail file weapons all ludicrous absurdist theatre while real bad guys can easily tape 3 McDonald’s plastic knives together or ball point pen pierce pilots passengers throat arteries skyjack planes hijack bus trains you are no safer than you ever were before Homeland Security Czars foreign wars where we don’t belong riding has grown so weary courage ruthless longing vexing generating entire industry of airport security corporate mall tariff duty free shops inflated restaurant menu prices liter bottle of water $4.99 welcome to America **** me now or **** me later who cares what i look like what i wear if i’m dry shaven smell like goat if i cough up chunks of lung spit tuberculosis germs on polished floors just so long as i pay the toll fee and don’t go shooting off my mouth

7/14/2015

"I mean I just don't get excited
anymore, you know?"
but even that
statement drains all the life out of me,
grabs a spot in my ribs, twists it, pulls it out like a dandelion ****.

I decide walking on 3rd avenue in
a Brooklyn neighborhood that I don't
need energy anymore
or, I've been doing well with the scant
supplies I have of it.

The day before, blow dried hair sticking to my neck because the windows are locked,
I had listened to the radio
Billie Holliday: oh lover man where can you be?

I know **** well where mine is,
unfortunately across the hudson
but I think I am happy for him because
any sane person would be otherwise in
princeton after a while

I count and recount the oaks and pines outside my house and the cardinals and bluejays and mocking birds, try to find something, don't find it,

Read a book, and I yell to myself:
"'That’s funny! there’s blood on me.'
- Frank Ohara."

i pay you back for your lack of attention with well aimed selfies at other men
snapchat carrying them faithfully across the pixelated airways
no evidence for you to find.

in the end, i resent everyone i love
for every opportunity that i stayed silent about what i really wanted
i resent them for my own flaws.
my quietness, my need to please.
i make myself a dog, and they pet my ego
just enough to keep me from leaving.

the curse of a fat stomach,
arms,
thighs,
attributes of a fat ***.
they can keep me in my place because i do not believe i am deserving
i've been taught that well,
but instagram makes me brave.
there are other girls like me
i stand on the foundation of the horror and humiliation they endure
in the hope of a better future
less fuckboys
less degradation
more equality
for my
fat
***

how much longer will i believe i have to put up with less than what i deserve
because i am lucky someone wants to **** me at all?
i don't think it will be long.
decades of socialization taught me to beg for every scrap
from a table laid for girls much thinner than i
but the tables are turning
resetting
rearranging
the playing field
is changing
fat is okay
fat is pretty
fat is normal
fat is just like anyone else
i just want to be treated
like everyone
else.

i'm your huckleberry
yes, I'm coughing blood
the glass is broken
death is smiling while kissing my tongue

i'm your huckleberry
the white devil on the black horse
play a game with me
and you can fall as well

barely a problem
worth a listen to tell
we can laugh together
in a bar in hell

i'm your huckleberry
this time drinks are on me
i'm not angry at you
in eternity we'll have time to see

we were always friends
who only had fun being enemies

this time you can trust me

I'm your huckleberry

We are the forgotten ones
The ones who can articulate
beyond the guns and knifes.
We don't need a beat
Our word flow through emotionally.
We are here to capture and decipher minds
Teach them all those things school has left behind
How history is only written by the victor
How there's more to blacks than Rosa Parks, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr's his..tory.
Let's not leave out the truth.
Poets stand up, fight for the youth.
We share our truth about love
Let's share the truth about knowledge
Forget the cliches of if life gives you lemons make lemonade.
We freed ourselves from the British.
Then enslaved Africa and made them forget who they were.
Only of Britain would had thought of that first.
Let's not sugar coat the past
Let's control the present and the future.
Poets stand up
We are the symphonies of hip hop, rap and r&b;
We are the class.
We are the Billy Holliday and Marvin Gay of this new era.
Like the fitted cap we fit snugg.
Poets stand up.
**** speaking on unicorns and rainbows
The sunny side of the chi.
Just last night my Lil man's got shot by the cops.
I use to say he was my son
Now I plan his funeral with his mom.
Poets stand up
Bloods, crips, gangsters, thugs re unite as the black panthers.
Poets stand up!
Poets stand up!
As they say ok ok your 15 seconds of fame Is up. No more from you today Mr. Ananymous.

"Dear Mama",
Question...
"Is life worth living or should I blast myself"
I'm always searching for those "better days"
knowing that peace in my heart will come In "Thugs Mansion".
Where I can "sip champagne
while I listen to Billy Holliday sing
and sit there kickin it with Malcolm till the day came."

Should I "ride on my enemies"?
Become one of "Amerikas most wanted"?
Or should I remember
that "the road is hard so I'll never give up"?
And "time don't stop, always going by.
So I'll puff on mine, hoping that it will get me high"

Smile for me.
"Won't you smile for me now"?
"It ain't easy" being a changed man
so when it feels like "all eyez on me".
I just remember that
"heaven ain't hard to find".

But I'm Not starving, I been eatin Hardy,...like the night at that "Gangsta Party"....
Certain things happen, I wana be happy so I have to make some arranges... Hopin in my life I have the ability to 1 day make those "Changes"...

absolutes always die
we get afraid
that they're everywhere
but life comes along each way
with compromise
by the way of wings
something like wasp wings
filling our fields and shoes
making us walk away
from bliss
like we would death
or the smell of it

what places the leather back
and makes everything smell
like best quality skin
is the knowledge
that
half love gets tired
much earlier than all this

it
can’t learn the steps
it’s happier to stumble away
than towards
the noose dances instead
and tightens
a lil harder
a lil fuller

knowing where to break its neck
before compromise mumbles
in silence
long before
we sing.

Dear Mama,
Is life worth living or should I blast myself?
I'm always searching for those better days
knowing that peace on earth will come. In Thugs Mansion.
Where I can sip champagne
while I listen to Billy Holliday sing
and sit there kickin it with Malcolm till the day came.

Should I ride on my enemies?
Become one of Amerikas most wanted?
Or should I remember
that the road is hard so I'll never give up?
And time don't stop, always going by.
So I'll puff on mine, hoping that it will get me high.

Smile for me.
Won't you smile for me now?
It ain't easy being a changed man
so when it feels like all eyez on me.
I just remember that
heaven ain't hard to find.

We dreamed until we would die.
My father still holding his whiskey
My mothers sloppy forgiveness.  
The kitchen roaring and swaying
Louder then bottle rockets Screaming across the restless suburbs.
For one nite we faded like a universe of
Creation.   For one nite we came back like comets predictable yet unforgettable.  
For one nite we didnt scream.
For one nite we lit up the world.