my wife’s on the wagon
so i said i wouldn’t drink at home
only in a bar
then the bars closed from the virus
conspiracy!

"enough of this lollygagging"
i say to my wife as i leave for my hospital job
"there are lives to save"
and as soon as i lock up my bike at work
i run into a woman stuck on the sidewalk
trying and failing to make it up the hill
"my chest hurts real bad"
i fetch a wheelchair and push her up that hill
delivering her to the emergency room
man am i connected to the universe

my fellow respiratory therapists hate everybody
nobody gets away
we have a new fella
good looking, young, sculpted, groomed
a nice guy and decent therapist
"oh, the model" says brenda with idle contempt
it’s a beautiful thing

here on this perfect summer morning
i take my friday ny times to the Coffee Connection
to sit outside and enjoy my day off--
and the city is on lockdown again
sitting not allowed
i suppose i could give it a squat

it’s a common consolation
that we all share the same view
flush or broke, lucky or luckless
we all live under the same sky
pondering the same constellations
too bad it’s *******
the wealthy live on another planet
more water, less desert
more dessert
closer to the stars
and their constellations provide
luxurious consolation

an arm adorned with one tattoo often shimmers
but a tattoo sleeve doesn’t work
profound for you, a swirling mess for me
meaningless dizzy clutter – less is more, man
it’s like years ago i was driving in backwoods nebraska
i came to a village with one ******* SKYSCRAPER
dwarfing the town like a cadaverous giant
twenty stories tall in a hamlet of 7-11s
ranch homes and stunted two-floor office buildings
it would have been a ****** in manhattan
all those seventy-story monsters huddled together
each elbowing the next from the limelight
cancelling each other out
but a single slamming skyscraper in a hick town
hits you like the first beer after two months at sea
a billboard in the desert or a charitable lady
nibbling your cashews after a stretch in the can
i was like jack tripping on a beanstalk
i pulled over to smoke a doob, stare and you know what?
i bet you a few nimble souls hopped off that tower

yeah cops are just working guys doing a ***** job
and when you need one you need one
but man, they let themselves be molded into an army
at the drop of a top hat and overtime paycheck
the police are weapons and sometimes used accordingly
they see no problem dropping into invasion mode
against the unemployed, the underemployed
the darker population, freethinkers
and other americans who break no laws
except the law against resisting the harness
the cops accept their role as cattle **** to students
who are playing their role:  cross-examining the USA
it's simple but true--
wear a suit and you're the boss
dress funky and you're a creep.
deserving of the smug baton
i observed this at the G20 summit
where i strolled along a phalanx of cops
there to protect the inviolability of property
more sacrosanct than the citizens of the country
and now i watch them kick down the wallstreet settlements
serving and protecting the dollar almighty
(thanks to my fellow beatniks for the cliche last line)
(but tell me it’s not true)
if you’re a policeman reading this
thanks for getting my keys out of the car
but WAKE UP to the way you’re intermittently implemented

i’m listening to the gospel station
digging this lady’s paean to christ
i’m stealing the song
not paying for it with piety or belief
taking what doesn’t belong to me
it’s transgressive
like watching the miss teen america pageant
or staring at my neighbor’s wife’s ***
enjoying what’s not mine to enjoy

i just picked up the monkey wrench gang
a bible for eco-terrorists
an influential text
when i was young i read henry miller
and soon began ******* my brains out
read carlos castenada and added psychedelics to my mix
read bukowski and my upward mobility turned south
now i’m not young
so the monkey wrench gang
probably won’t have me blowing up bridges
which is fortunate
mein kampf is next on the syllabus

i’ve come to see
people who are a pain in the ***
keep you on your toes

resnick!
for years we worked together in the hospital
i knew him as a villainous old coot
but a stud in his youth
and a rake all the way through
smoking relentlessly in the oxygen tank room
which didn’t blow up, but just coughed
cascading merry cynicism with wicked timing
"for chrissakes," he’d say, seeing me carting equipment
"i took less than that with me to vietnam"
tom told me a ***** joke about rodeo ***
that i repeated on a book tour
(since i’m the ***** poet)
and which turned the audience so hostile
my poems may as well have been covid
tom came on to all women:  staff, patients, family
"hey little girl, you want some candy?"
so over-the-top creepy that it was acceptable
if you squinted
he was triggered especially by denise
a young nurse:  blonde, petite, shy
when she walked by, his admiration calmed him down

now tom’s gone to that great ashtray in the sky
and when i see denise in the halls
i smile and savor tom’s unshackled lust
his peculiar resnick love

is it really such a radical idea
that people shouldn’t push other people around
and pillage all their resources?

seems to me that the idea of a king and queen
is the wacky concept

got lost on the way out of bed
took a wrong turn at the pillow

there is no “music”
the word is a vague endearment
applied on a whim
“music” is an adjective

"watch out, slow down, what the ****"
that’s my reaction to some truly appalling driving
from my compadre the duke
this would be years ago
he turned to me, smiled and said
“the difference between you and me
is you’re afraid to die"
"no," i said, "the difference between you and me
is i don’t WANT to die"
now i’m an old coot
and the duke never made it to 30
i called that one
but he was a star

hitching a ride to the southside after a night shift
looking forward to sunrise holiday obliteration
oh holy night -- it’s our christmas party
my twenty dollars the first of a hundred on the bar
tequila from me, girlie shots from my menagerie
they taste like Chanel #5 but by shot #10
they knock you across the room

getting home from the christmas party is always an issue
but the bus goes directly from Jacks to my living room
so at 11 a.m. or who knows when i exit the bar
it’s freezing, snowing, and too much fun out here
but when the 54c bus finally materializes i rejoice
pay my fare and relax onto my seat
elated to be escalating home
i’m safe on the bus, so warm, so comfy
so slowly sliding from my seat to the floor
all seven passengers look down at me, that guy
i giggle up at them with christmas cheer
and say "woops"

the small blonde nurse and i were breaking our backs
transporting the giant patient in the ****** bed to a cat scan

"i’m hot," she said as we slogged through the hospital

"you are kinda hot," i said
"you don’t really need to mention it"

we laughed and she said
"well i’m just putting it out there"

on tuesday in the hospital
i made a student cry
she wouldn’t shut up about a no-win situation
we talked half an hour as i charted
she got more and worked up
"we should DO something" about a patient
when there was nothing left to do
"we are done talking about this," i said at last
"if you work in a hospital
you won’t see ten people like this
you’ll see hundreds
and their families
if you really want to help these people
you can’t be so emotional"
words that jumpstarted the tears
i felt unsettled about that
but she put me in that position

on friday i was at a gallery opening
the artist handed me a vape pen of ***
"what’s that?" i asked
and my cool factor shrank to zero

just burned my finger
thanks george foreman
not bad, but it stings
and you know what?
i’m glad for the distraction
in these dank days

the top shelf at stingrays
isn’t like the top shelf at another bar
it’s more like there’s no room on this shelf
so let’s stash it somewhere up above
but i figured i’d give it a shot
so to speak
"i’ll take that abners up there
the bourbon"
petey the bartender nodded
bent down and produced a bottle of abners
it wasn’t even bottom shelf
it was on the floor
but it got me messed up

some people have too much money
it defines them
totally
anything else about them
is irrelevant

country music night was a soft adventure
much stranger and more charming than expected
the living room was microscopic
they were passing around a fifth of whiskey
"i hope you don’t mind," said our host
a heavily-bearded med school/phd student
"but i drink from the bottle"
uh, groovy…  i stuck with beer
and admired his grungy charisma
we tuned to his autoharp
which was out of tune
we sang silly old country songs
he’d printed out lyrics and chords
young hippies came and went
a banjo, a fiddle, a lute, two ukuleles
my flashy flatpicking and slide
sweet, ragged harmonizing
we’d landed on the planet of pure music
skipping from moon to moon
till way past midnight
you should have been there

when people make assumptions about you
you resent them when they get it wrong
and you resent them when they get it right

dear ultimate phone number marie whateveryourlastnameis who

just graduated somerset high school, imaginary aroma of whose
thick, ready thighs and *** (and car!) woke me up this morning
at a boil, who told me anytime I want and wrote your number
on a slip of paper that I stripped my entire room to find, even
unhooking the radiator cover but no good:

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

thank god everyone's texting
looking down every spare
and not-so-spare moment
thank god for the distraction
now illiterate people have something to do

used to be that whenever i saw the proletariat
staring into space at a bus stop
while i was reading a book
i worried about them obsessing on vengeance
daydreaming about our destruction
rising up against us intellectuals

now they can forget about me
and the bus they’re waiting for

anthologized or unpublished
famous or failed
obscene or obscure
young or old
poets die with their boots on
boots of trochaic luster

texting “lawrence ferlinghetti” to a friend
the phone spellcheck took over
that’s how you know you made it

my wife can be very disruptive
if she disagrees
and if she feels threatened
she goes for the jugular

last day of work at mercy hospital
leaving is always fun
it’s the end of the beginning
i won the strong man contest
that nurse couldn’t even lift one “e” tank
i’ve hauled 13,000
after so many deliveries
of so many oxygen canisters
today each one is the last
i’ll never see the seventh floor again
job well done
boss shakes my hand
says come back as a therapist any time
floating like a ghost through these halls one more time
push something and people look right through you
you’re invisible
except to other people pushing
carts of laundry, garbage, lunch
it’s zen, it’s the dating game
it’s martial arts
tai chi, but instead of kicking ***
i’m pumping cylinders, healing the sick
and even though i said so long to so many
i did this so alone
last look

these classical musicians are needy *******
applause when stepping on stage
ovation when finishing a tune
they have expectations
and they get what they want
you know, it might be appropriate
for ME to get a standing ovation
after i keep a patient breathing
when she’s going down the tubes
of course, that’s asking a lot
since the patient can’t stand up
but it would be cool to hear applause
every time i step into a hospital room

"steven’s coming over tomorrow"
my son announced
then went up to his room
spent all day ******* boxes
gluing cardboard planks
coloring
arranging soldiers
the next morning
when his friend arrived
sam ushered him upstairs
when steven saw the setup
he let out a short "ooo"
as sam announced
"imperial city"

back in new york my life was a narrow vestibule
but my dreams were cathedrals
reality was vapor
fantasy as concrete as 8th avenue

here in pittsburgh i’m living the life
but my dreams are deflated balloons

baudelaire has ****** me over
all you drunken poets know what i mean
old alkies
laughing at young alkies
laughing at old alkies
baudelaire and bukowski snickering at the end of the bar
making me pay for the next million rounds
with a currency of meaningless hangovers
and silly stanzas
free beer and revelation
always tomorrow

i work with miley, a west virginia hottie
one night we're all sitting around
(not miley)
and someone says
"did you hear about miley's boyfriend?"
this afternoon he'd been speeding on the turnpike
deliberately doing 80 past two parked cop cars
they chased him, he stopped, got out of the car
waiving a semiautomatic, wearing body armor
they capped him five times in the head
then found the car full of guns
wow
we're stunned, taking it in
i break the silence
"so you're saying miley is available?"

there is no invention
all our creations
are either gifts
(if the idea just came to you)
or excavations
(if you worked for it)

one corner of my job in the hospital is chest physical therapy
pummeling people on the back to loosen the junk in their lungs
a grueling effort requiring strength and stamina
i’d broken my arm, bike v. pothole, had been on disability for months
and now i was back at work for several weeks
but chest pt hadn’t come up
until this morning
i wondered how it would go
i positioned the elderly patient for proper drainage
and commenced beating the **** out of him
i snuck a glance towards his head
the old fellow was grimacing like an outraged skull
my arm felt fine and i thought
i’m back, baby

hey, people have to breathe
why shouldn't i get a few bucks?

when the laptops power down
and the pens run out of ink
when the cell phones gasp
and the telephone poles keel over
when the band goes mute
and the reservoir in my head is empty

i'll be glad
i stocked the ponds
of the cosmos
and can spend my nights
fishing

that’s a laugh
when it’s time to do the hard stuff
men are slipping out the back
looking for the exit
get me out of here
i need a beer
what’s on tv
while women roll up their sleeves and get to work

yeah cops are just working guys doing a ***** job
and when you need one you NEED one
but man, they let themselves be molded into an army
at the drop of a top hat and overtime paycheck
the police are weapons and sometimes used accordingly
they see no problem dropping into invasion mode
against the unemployed, the underemployed
the darker population, freethinkers
and other americans who break no laws
except the law against resisting the harness
the cops accept their role as cattle **** to students
who are playing THEIR role:  cross-examining the USA
it's simple but true--
wear a suit and you're the boss
dress funky and you're a creep.
deserving of the smug baton
i observed this at the G20 summit
where i strolled along a phalanx of cops
there to protect the inviolability of property
more sacrosanct than the citizens of the country
and now i watch them kick down the wallstreet settlements
serving and protecting the dollar almighty
(thanks to my fellow beatniks for the cliche last line)
(but tell me it’s not true)
if you’re a policeman reading this
thanks for getting my keys out of the car
but WAKE UP to the way you’re intermittently implemented

gnarly opinions from my algebra professor:

"about a year ago some idiot took pi
out to the ten thousandth place"

sometimes inexplicable (to me):

"i don’t like that Please Aunt Sally Stuff"

awesome litanies of cliche:

"you can’t see the forest for the trees
nobody comes out of the womb running
you have to crawl
i don’t say this because i have free time
or to hear myself talk—
rome wasn’t built in a day!"

sometimes he strikes gold
telling a tardy student:

"try being late for a ship
try standing on the dock
see if they sail back for you"

when the same kid asks the date:

"what does it matter?  you don’t know the time!"

wine, women and song?
well, beers, wife, jamming...
netflix, lunch...

let’s pretend life never ends
let’s pretend we’re free
let’s pretend we’re more than the fungus we resemble
we’ve got to **** down all the vile protein—
smelly warlords, 9-5, gangsta rap—
our brief stay in this fleabag hotel earth
where checkout time is way too soon—
popups, ***** and praying for mercy—
we must plug into any available outlet
and hope it’s not reverse polarity

some jobs require brutal effort
the hammering of nails
stomping on the necks of “citizens”
vacuuming cash from the pockets of “consumers”
men assaulting women they "love"
me, i float gently towards my mission
colonizing the subconscious of this city

aching after aphrodite
turning my back on beatrice
and every night i’m foaming
gathering women into my sheets
stained now yellow, green, red, brown
swaggering across streets, beds, stages
gazing into cameras
not smart, autographing plates at patti’s
but beer blackout bingo, baby
so nasty and ***** on prosper street
conscience passed out on the couch
but she didn’t have to answer the monster’s call
for some the future has a subtle rhythm
for me it’s a few bumpy trips assways down stairs
first for fun, then kicks

hey rockstar
someday you’ll recall your name, your birthright, your peace
but next week will be a ball and a half

the trump impeachment show is a lot of fun
those republications don’t give a **** though
so nothing will happen
but like bernie sanders’ cosmic environmental plan
it advances the conversation

he sold *** in high school
it was so easy
he made thousands
and now he knows easy money
working will always seem a sucker’s day

before i grew up and sailed away
on a river of beer
i was a dandy drug fiend
burned off my eyebrows
smoking ***** over a stove
snorted all the coke at an upper west side party
and beat hasty retreat
wandered the street in an amphetamine stupor
wielding two fistfuls of used belts
ah, the indiscretions of youth
been a while since i rolled joints in hash oil
spilled on someone's sheets

the melodies are fanatical
the harmonies are undisclosed
the rhythms are giraffes tripping

at least
that’s how it sounds to the marketplace

dreamed i was in barnes and nobles
trying to buy Boswell’s London Journal
the young clerk gave me a package
of diapers and baby powder
with boswell’s face stamped on it
"i don’t wanna wipe my ***," i told him
"i wanna read boswell’s london journal"
dreams!