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anthologized or unpublished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!

heard about the doctor running for the hospital elevator?
the doors were closing so he stuck his head in
decapitated
which is shocking enough
but imagine the folks inside the elevator

jimmy page had a sitar before the beatles
but couldn’t figure out how to tune it
see, being a beatle pays off
you can have the world’s greatest sitar master
give you tuning tips
all jimmy page had for guidance
was a billion groupies

drop a spoon, you’re getting company
drop a fork, you’ll have a fight
asinine superstitions
instilled in me by my mother
probably out of the boredom of being a mom
but almost everything we believe is baloney
so who knows
and now i dropped a fork AND a spoon
so someone’s coming over to punch me

i was an ***** player for a talk show in the southside
one night while tanking up preshow at a poolhall down the block
i snooped a conversation about a stripper birthday party
currently in progress at mcardles pub
mcardles being a bar on an alley in the southside
i made haste for the stripper party
though i didn’t know which alley to head for
alas, mcardles pub stayed aloof
i was toasted and the southside got bigger
with talkshow time only an hour away
then 45 minutes, then half an hour
and i couldn’t find mcardles
many alleys, all blind, no mcardles
no strippers, no off-duty pulchritude
finally, in despair, i surrendered
went to the lava lounge, plugged in my *****
painted my face and put on an indian headdress
i sang "piece of my heart"
sharing my misery with the audience
(yes we had an audience, a good one)
when i was done our mc alexie said
"he looks like one of the village people
but he sang the **** out of that song
let’s hear it for unfinished symphonies"
yeah let’s hear it for me
taking pieces of my ***** heart
and throwing them at the happy drunken
coked-up ladies at mcardles invisible pub

on the one hand
i missed every boat
on the other
they all sank

yeah, you're anticorporation
that's why you wipe your *** with tree bark
and weave your own cloth
from the cotton you grow in the basement

there’s no intrinsic value in anything
none
oh there’s value, but only what we ascribe
like picasso scribbles now worth a fortune
because somebody decided
it’s all arbitrary
***?  a compelling biological twitch
self-preservation?   if you say so
pizza?  tastes good
democracy?  if you dig mob prejudice
god?  if he existed
love?  a great tv show
youth?
ah, now you’re talking

i don’t know about you
but some nights i go out looking for trouble
sink a few, drop a bottle, jump a rooftop
shout the wrong thing in the wrong ear
many nights really
and sometimes i gotta take my popped knee
busted head and flattened ego
back home to lick my wounds
and enjoy the quiet world i live in

the french are crackpot smart
daylong parking in those cafes
gives them copious time to reflect
the results evident in ubiquitous bookstores

but with their prodigious cafe loitering
curb-to-curb restaurants
and cartons of cigarettes
how is it that parisians
don't cascade off their stools
with lung cancer at age 42
leaving craters from their girth
in bistro sidewalks?

let me ask you

you’re sitting in a hospital room
visiting a friend or mother or son in a critical care bed
an alarm is triggered, an ominous warning
you nervously step outside looking for a nurse
you tell the nurse there’s something beeping
the nurse comes inside and fixes the occluded line
you nitpick about the time it took
you question procedures as the nurse is doing them
advocating for the patient
the squeaky wheel gets the grease, right?
yeah but guess what
the nurse doesn’t want to come into the room anymore
whether you’re in there or not
the vitals will still be seen to
but other patients suddenly need more attention
and by the way
every time you ask me if i washed my hands
(like the posted signs advise you to ask)
i think:  if you’re that worried about infection
i’ll just stay out of the room; that much less exposure
that means painful bedpan delay for your loved one
or lying in filth a little longer
waiting thirsty minutes for that sip of water
staying in one excruciating position half an hour more

so have you done your friend or mother or son a favor?

an airplane is an escape from gravity
a parachute is a compromise
jumping off the ground is protest
and laying down is surrender
a trampoline is a tease
and all the elevators are going up today
none coming down
so up we go

the facts tell one story
my insanity tells another
occasionally i wake from my delirium
and realize how far i’ve drifted out to sea
then i’m dragged underwater again
it’s like driving a GMC pickup
from one whiskey rendezvous to the next
floating high above my memories
and way below my desires
i’d love to get back to sober ground
so i propose a toast
sometimes a pretty girl is a cheap trick
and i’m not falling for it

yet another victim
of what?
******* that passes for thought
circumstances set in motion
losers with nothing better to do
business as usual
morons who feel passionately
about their reflections in the mirror

thank god i'm married
it would all be too easy if i weren’t
and in the end, too boring

ironic when you consider
that marriage is a still life
with the paint flaking off

but when you're alone
it all breaks down

marriage is like college
you're not sure it's necessary
but if you don't go
you feel like you missed something

and the truth is, my bride
i would have missed everything
without you

it’s a big country and a bigger world
there’s arguments for and against everything
one man’s meat is another man’s mcdonalds
for all the bibles of opinion and encyclopedias of conjecture
the citizens see what they want to see
a boy looks in the mirror and sees a hero
that’s what the president sees in the mirror too
then he sends in the marines and builds a library
if the poor believe the rich are crushing them
every bill is a boot
if the rich are afraid the poor want to **** in their pie
they’ll taste dooky
the horndog sees a summer oasis of mermaids
swimming towards him
it’s a big country and a bigger world
and the citizens see what they want to see

intelligence = pattern recognition
you’re intelligent to the degree
you perceive patterns
i’ve always believed that
but now i realize
patterns recognize patterns
they corrupt each other
it’s 2 a.m. and patterns diagnose me
they’re nodding to me across the bar
is it my imagination
or do patterns laugh at my simplicity
then stumble off in search of **** complexity
before last call?

the rib dinner with your wife
the cuddle with your daughter
watching tremors with your son
that show you did at sonny’s
rereading wonder boys
the night you were ****** up on ludes with your poet friends
dropping glasses off the table to torture the waitress
these were the peak and you enjoyed it all
you just didn’t realize it was the best it would be
the best it COULD be
you didn’t miss the moment
you just didn’t recognize what you were seeing
you think it’s all-you-can-eat
but the buffet runs out
you think there’s always more
and there isn’t
but there is this

when you have the blues
when you lost something
you’re never gonna find again
you might have the inspiration
to write a sad song
but why would you ever sing it?

my coworkers bristle
when i say i’m a poet and composer
and that slaving in a hospital is just a hobby
"no," they insist, "the hospital is your PROFESSION
music and writing are just HOBBIES"
ok
so for vincent van gogh
he who never sold a canvas
painting was a hobby?

the supergenius' race-baiting strategy
is gonna bite him in the ***
his base (in every fragrance of the word)
will still boogie down with its war-dance
but he's gonna motivate a lot of people
to put a brake on the fascism

things didn't end well for mussolini

i’m taping a poem to a lamp post in my tiny city
and a dude comes running – RUNNING!
across the street waiving a $20 bill
"i’ve been reading you for years
i wanna give you this"
i thank him and tell him to keep his money
"the transaction is i put up this poem
you read it, you like or hate it or shake your head
and if we meet we talk about it"
but come on
once again i beat t.s. eliot
you think anyone ever ran up to him
with 20 bucks for The Wasteland?
yeah right

just because something’s for sale
and you bought it
doesn’t mean you didn’t steal it
isn’t that why prostitution is illegal?
of course, stealing is fine
if you couldn’t purloin the life
of a sirloin or banana
you wouldn’t eat
BUT
just because you can buy a porkchop
doesn’t mean that the pig
placed himself on the market
not to sweat it though
when the earth digests you
it all evens out

i know why
you ******* around on your wedding night
it was a great party
the girls were all dolled up
and you were the center of attention