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

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!

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

playing my harpsichord in pittsburgh’s market square
an audience of homeless, druggies, children of druggies
scurrying working stiffs and three tourists
a black man at the far corner of the square
scampers straight for me, screeching "white devil!"
"white devil! white devil! white devil!"
he’s in front of me, leaning on the harpsichord
"WHITE DEVIL!"
then he drops $2 in my upsidedown bongo
turns around, screams "white devil!"
and runs out to the street

gastrointestinal doctors
must be appalled by the **** people eat
the ludicrous cuisine of fast food
they witness the cataclysmic consequences
which they’re supposed to clean up
it’s like filling your car’s gas tank
with cat litter, seaweed and yoo-hoo
and expecting a smooth ride

easy access to guns certainly factors into mass shootings
but an equally disturbing issue is why so many of us
feel compelled to slaughter vast quantities of strangers
i mean, it’s because we can
with all that delicious weaponry floating around
but still, it makes you wonder
i work with a guy who had a son at Virginia Tech
during the shootings there
my wife’s boss had a cousin who died
during the church massacre last year
i was coming to work five years ago
as the cops were swarming the building
on a hunt for the maniac
who’d just gunned down three people, one fatally
these incidents of random ******
have become so ubiquitous that more and more of us
know someone directly affected
that said
the way our government kowtows to the NRA
would be pathetic if not so flabbergasting
i assume the gun worshippers are against mass homicide
though i suspect they admire the firepower
but just as there’s a lot of car accidents because there’s a lot of cars
there’s a shitload of shootings because there’s a fuckload of guns
i believe that; i could be wrong
but i guess we’re lucky there’s no National Nuclear Bomb Association

my friend dan, a rare and refined writer
came to pittsburgh for a poetry forum

in hopes of making a splash
he decided to bake a chicken
and bring it to the event
unfortunately he chose a kitchen
in ohio

i never got a piece

so young, so bare-midriffed
i’m taking her blood in biology class
we’re studying phenotypes
i jab her finger twice
but no gravy
i pinch her fingers
and blood spurts from two holes
as i’m about to poke a third
****
she’s as tight as she looks
yeah, bio students
should have more supervision
when extracting each other’s blood
but it’s some first date

was baudelaire right and everyone else wrong?
was baudelaire wrong and everyone else wrong?
when you’re fed up forwards and backwards
when you realize your life isn’t a game of chess

it’s simply checkers
almost preordained
in its lack of options
we all have embedded GPS systems
gallantly navigating through the days
some work brilliantly
some less so
we depend on them
and they’re undependable
they get us so far
but invariably lead us
to the end of the highway
going 90
everyone puts his best foot forward
only to stumble off the edge of the earth
you can’t win forever
you lose it all
but **** a duck
i’m going to redefine victory
one bottle at a time
like baudelaire

depends how many drinks you’re down
how much is in your wallet
what you’ve spent, what remains
who owns the world?
i could make a huge, expansive list
but it would be defective
the best answer
is you
you own the world
there’s room in your pocket
you can keep what you can carry

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

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

after the galactic destruction of hiroshima
we felt we needed a bigger bomb
exponentially bigger
we needed a thermonuclear bomb
equal to 1,000 atomic bombs
so we built one
then we built many
it was necessary

not if but when
maybe bird flu will save us

"Society of the Spectacle" by Guy Debord
a founding text of the Situationists
it's like social media was invented
to intensify what he's talking about
our reality is a manufactured representation
of course Guy Debord's life
was yet another glorious failure
his canny analysis changed nothing
but it can be argued that glorious failure
is the way to go
otherwise you're not thinking big

what did i learn working at the hospital today?
don't do a headstand on a motorcycle
but don't worry
the daredevil kid who taught me this
will never do it again

a sad racial incident
i’m at a sidewalk cafe
i take my phone off the table and put it in my pocket
i look up and a black teen is passing my table
i didn’t even notice him and he’s staring at me
"i ain’t interested in your phone, man"
then he walks on
accused

where’s it gonna end?
countdown from some to none
sinking into the mud from which we sprung
but come on sparky
sink a drink and compel the fatcats
to share the wealth
and when you do your job
complain all you like
moaning helps ease the pain
a medical fact

you can’t come out ahead
not with death picking your pocket
on your way out the door
but maybe you can balance the equation
reconcile the molecular weight
of the positive and negative
like the moon tonight
it’s a perfect glowing circle
the moon is a balanced equation
your life can be the same
if the wind blows your way

by that measure
this year was a mindblower

if there’s a perfect segment of your life
put it on the wall
and charge yourself admission
like i’m doing right now
i straddle the planet
and scoff at my helpless emotion
i scrape up any tears i cried
spit them at passing airplanes
and balance the astonishing equation

it works

i’m frankenstein’s masterpiece
constructed from so many components
dad, husband, respiratory therapist
poet, filmmaker, musician, artist
applied physicist, philosopher
bike rider, weight lifter
coffee drinker, reader, television addict
taxpayer, consumer, sucker
emperor of my universe, peon
fearless, fearful, fatalistic
and i know a heap of ***** jokes

i'm a genius
i'm a genius
i'm a genius
i'm a genius
i'm a genius
i'm a genius
i'm a genius
i'm a genius

hey, that guy's pretty smart

the election was rigged
the election was rigged

started three 12-hour shifts in a row
the hospital is home for the next three days
my actual house is now a hotel
sympathetic wife, cozy cats, comfy bed
but my interest and energy
my life force is here
it's a weird freedom
no one cares what i think or say
or even do
decent food, the soups are good
thrills and spills, dueling with disease
juggling the maladies of the patients
trying to make a dent in their suffering
smoking females underfoot
flashing eyes above masks
snug scrubs showcasing enticing rumps
fantasies on every floor
ahhh, the days of a healer
home again

when i was a kid
i wondered what it would be like to be 40
now i can't remember being 40
i STILL don't know what it's like

greetings from the neurotrauma ICU

BED 1
morbidly obese female arrest
brain death protocol tomorrow

BED 2
drugged out assault victim
intubated for combativeness
to get the breathing tube in his mouth
we had to pry a bag of *******
out of his mouth

BED 3
21 year old arrest
80 pounds, looks like spinabifuda
claw hands, twisted feet
but no
autistic but no birth defects
just starved to death
by his caretaker brother

BED 5
50 year old woman
potential locked-in syndrome
cause unknown
possible she sees and hears everything
but completely unresponsive
can’t even blink an eye
to signal i’m here

BED 6
51 year old CORE patient
2 day protocol
for ***** donation

BED 7
biker crash
seemed ok until his MRI
revealed a spine so compressed
he spent 10 hours in the OR

BED 9
30 year old car crash
trached, quadrapalegic
buckets of secretions
chugging a wide-eyed
40 breaths a minute

BED 10
man fell out of a tree
huffing cleaning spray
we found a **** ring in the trauma bay
and upon intubation
his ******* fell out

all the options compete
for a sliver of my attention
which is split thinner and thinner
but if i’m captured and amused
it’s cool, it’s a good deal
i come out ahead
it’s contended incessantly
that my attention is utterly monetized
subliminally
but i don’t care
i say it’s a bargain
it’s like selling your soul
when you know you don’t have one

in the 21st century
playing a guitar instead of a computer
is like driving a harley instead of a lexus
the lexus is better for every kind of weather
smoother, sleeker
more versatile
more intelligent
the guitar?
IT'S A ******* HARLEY

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

even as it gentrifies—
all those boxy condos—
Pittsburgh will never turn
hipster chic (Williamsburg)
just pleasantly dorky
that’s cool, in its way

our better natures have much to contend with

we want the chinese to be slaves in factories
so we can buy our crap for cheap
we want fracking to poison neighborhoods
so we can heat our homes on a budget
we want to torture cows and poultry
for a chicken *** pie and a roast beef sandwich
we want the suckers in the middle east
to knock each other off with their bonkers belief systems
(*** slaves are kosher) so they leave us the **** alone
we want the old to be sick and the young to be broke
so we feel like we’re sitting pretty

this is what we want
this is why we’re so happy

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

call me al
algorithm

you know
maybe jobs are SUPPOSED to drive you insane
the more i consider it
the more plausible it seems
what job DOESN'T drive you nuts?
maybe “employment” was designed
to wreck your mind
the overlords’ secret agenda

consistency is defeat
going to work every day?
coming home?  every night?
TEQUILA!
***** BONGWATER!
look
my totality changes
every day and a half
i’m one slippery *******
so if and when i tumble out your window
it’ll be a nuclear event
molecules exploding
lasciviously recombining
promiscuously bonding with whatever
carnal stray matter catches my eye
by tomorrow morning
i’ll be snowing
all over the universe

it’s father’s day and everybody has one
even if you can’t put your finger on him
we have a tradition in our house
on father’s day i ditch the kids
and if i want a white russian
that could happen
and if i want to dig a tinkling
percussionist from new york city
that’s up to me
because it’s father’s day
and i’m the #1 dad

she asks in exasperation
do i ever think about my white male privilege?
**** no
the most privileged part is not having to think about it
then i ask her
do you ever think about your plain old white privilege?
as opposed to being non-white
crucified with every glance
judged guilty of thievery and stupidity
do you think about your money privilege?
wealthy enough to eat in every restaurant in town
while half the world starves
ever think about your health privilege?
strong enough to stroll the boulevards
while others struggle for breath
and lay immobilized in pain
i’m telling you
taking all this good fortune for granted
is the biggest luxury of all
and she says
only a man would deflect the question that way

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

the second coming of kamela harris
is a crackup
a few months ago
she couldn’t get arrested
by the democratic establishment
i’m all for her
but those four nights of hosannas
was quite the megaload of hooey
all generated by vast relief
but a bit much

i bang my head against the wall for a living
and it’s no coincidence
that’s what i do with my free time as well
i must love it

barney chose his footsteps
whimsically
no deliberation
no destination
whimsy was his map and strategy
all night and day

"what’s happening, barney?"
"harpsichords, baby"
"what’s on the agenda?"
"pastrami and democracy"

and when barney picnicked in the park at 3 a.m.
and heard "give me your money, ******"
barney laughed a great laugh
and collapsed spreadeagle on the grass
the perplexed mugger straddled him
delivered a bemused punch to the jaw
and rummaged through barney’s every pocket
to find only pistachio nuts

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

as the years pass
you get wider
more horizontal
when you’re utterly sideways
they shovel the dirt on you

the hospital is a maze
built in confusing sections
but that’s just the start
the people i deal with
are a maze within a maze
patients, families, nurses, doctors
other respiratory therapists
and superimposed on all this
is another maze
the conundrums i try to solve
a fella fell off a cliff
a jehova’s witness fell off a roof
a 16 year old shot himself in the head
my strategies for keeping them breathing
or not
every one a maze
and i’ll never find my way out

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

zombie apocalypse
what better way to process
all these brain dead monsters
murdering total strangers
and third graders
with their advanced weaponry
you can’t go to the supermarket
without fearing you’ll be assassinated
by the walking dead

some visions are pedestrian
workaday
bring them home for night time consumption
then out with the fishbones
but you
you're a memory i'll stick under the tree
unwrap at christmas

yeah we’re going camping in february
makes you a man
and if your **** freezes off—  SNAP!!
makes you MORE of a man
well, it’s a trade off

hey hon
how’s your morning going?

this unit is like a disaster movie
2 brain deaths
2 self-inflicted gunshots to the head
2 covids (if only there were a vaccine—
oh ****, there is)
1 paraplegic
1 drunken assault
and a very ******* fellow
who was gored by a bull

let’s go out to eat tonight

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

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

that lawn mower
is heavier than it used to be
and tonight i’m paying the price
i see that old age
won’t be the easy transition i expected
i should have known
but i’m a blithe optimist
my trouble will be a diminished capacity
that day by day, takes me by surprise
some days more violently than others
well you gotta live your life
i’ll have to discover my limitations
the hard way

as i told the boys at my favorite music store
“show me a tube amp for a thousand bucks
something i can plug my les paul into and let it rip
gotta be intense enough to play with drums in a bar unmiked
and i came here early so i can play loud”
walked out with a Blackstar