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

(for my fellow dharma bums)

why is this backpack so heavy?
chicken & country cole slaw
forks & knives & spoons
a bicycle helmet hanging off
a sketch pad
books
          the next 100 years
          how the beatles destroyed rock’n’roll
a walkman & cds
          the soundtrack to the darjeeling limited
          faust’s first two albums
          tom waits & alan holdsworth
          compilations of local prog rock
          modern blues & albert king
old newsweeks
a black t shirt & blue scrubs
a folder with poems & instructional material
          the brain death protocol
a stethoscope
but why is it so heavy?
must be the hot sauce

we have 350 pounds of quivering repugnance
oozing out of a nightmare into bed 3
he's a nice guy but my god
drooling rivers of foul juice from nose and mouth
his tracheostomy spewing mucus into every corner of the room
one of the more gruesome patients you’ll ever treat
for someone not an amputee or gunshot to the face
the nurse rockets from the room
"I JUST GOT HIS *** IN MY EYE," she wails
"WHAT DO I DO?"
we shrug our shoulders
wash her eye out?   quit nursing?
and how did THAT happen?
she tears down the hall to the attending physician
who tries to talk her down
"he actually has the cleanest *** in the unit," says the doctor
"his labs show there’s very little growing in there"
hard to swallow when assessing fright night in bed 3

netanyahu’s gotta go
putin’s gotta go
trump’s gotta go
but here’s the news
you can scream yourself hoarse
into the online ether
you can march to city hall every day
until your tracks cut to the center of the earth
netanyahu’s got it covered
putin’s staying put
and trump’s riding back on an old brown horse
so let’s sing it together
wah wah wah

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

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

i could have been this, but i'm not
i could have done that, but i didn't
tantalizing, torturous thoughts
and complete baloney
you can only be what you are
you can only do what you did
all detours and dead ends
are built into that one highway
you ride

he held a bullet next to his chest with his left hand
with his right he smashed it with a hammer
which is why he’s missing *******
he still has a chest and beating heart though
and glistening red toenails
this fellow does things his way

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 bartender looked like bukowski’s mom
she served me another shot of tequila and said
"you better slow down, son
it’s bad for your health"

"i ain’t long for this world anyway"
i said, throwing it down

she snorted
"you’re the third kid who told me that tonight"

"hey, can i help it if everyone who dies young
comes to this bar?"

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

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

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

years ago i spent a winter in san francisco
living in a mission hotel when it was cheap enough
i met a charming young lady
and we kept company for a couple of months
we went out, we stayed in, we had fun
and one night she said "man, you’re so cool
about going out with a black woman
it’s like it makes absolutely no difference to you"
and i thought, she’s black?
huh
that might explain why when we hit the clubs
the black men were staring razors at me

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?

a libertine nutcase doing exactly what he wants to do
breaking things that need to be broken
getting paid for it, getting laid
drugging, drinking and mutating the scenery
until he pulls his own plug
seems like a golden shore
when you're "commuting" to "work"
and dragging "home" for "dinner"

what the world chooses
to reveal about itself
to any individual
is highly selective
idiosyncratic
you might call it a tease

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

"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"

you know what i like about the Atlantic Monthly?
many Important Articles on Important Subjects
when i read it, i'm Important

when someone insults you
it shortcircuits everything good
that happened that day
or week or year
it plays on a loop in your mind
igniting a roulette wheel of reaction
that might whirl out of control
so watch out *******
maybe

gotta give it to the New York Times
every week they blindside you
with a new apocalyptic scenario
that you had no idea existed
when armageddon arrives
the only mystery will be which way we’ll respond
"didn’t see that one coming"
or "we knew but didn’t do anything about it"

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

for most of us
working a job is a lifelong mindfuck
we've been snowed into believing
we must dedicate our lives
to making some invisible ******* rich
pay unceasing attention to tasks
unimportant and irrelevant
commit unflagging effort our entire adult lives
to nothing special
until we're parked out to pasture
so we develop investment strategies
for enduring the workweek
spend too much for designer coffee
pay extra for easier parking
buy lunch when we could bring a sandwich
flirt with the skirts or broad shoulders
all effective crutches to keep us going
it would be epic
to get more of a return on our investments
than a dishwasher or two

is gravity good or bad?
doesn’t apply
gravity just is
the rich get whatever they want
is that right or wrong?
maybe
or maybe it just is

instagram took down a photo of me
with fake dreads
saying "i shot the sheriff"
they don’t countenance violent content
evidently bob marly/eric clapton
aren’t famous enough to reference
lucky the robots don’t come to my door
and arrest me for ******
although my wife says they should book me
for the fake dreads

we older american jews relate to israel
we were indoctrinated as kids
israel good, nazis bad
israel good, arabs bad
why would those bad arabs attack israel?
the palestinan problem is that they existed
before israel, unless you go back ten million years
and they’re still here to get pounded
israel doesn’t make it easy on the jews either
it’s so insistent on being a jewish state
that saying anti-zionism is not anti-semitism
does not compute
we’re gonna get smashed in righteous fury for eons
for this particular genocidal moment
like we need a new target on our backs
it’s like learning your uncle is a serial killer
you make excuses
you remember his good side
and there was plenty of good
but that dang serial killing…

glorious twaddle
launching a generation of ***** feet
book upon book of wishful thinking
a saccharine boozehound
trying to convince himself
of i don’t know what
i say this with affection
i lived it and loved it
but it made zero sense

i come in to do some therapy
there’s two prison guards in the patient’s room
and there’s jeff sessions on tv again
i involuntarily groan and turn my head
one guard says, "yeah, i can’t stand that little ******"
even the prison screws have had enough of this ****

night after night in all those arenas
we hippies understood
only three songs where it happened
RED HOUSE, VOODOO CHILD
and HEAR MY TRAIN A'COMING

you see, THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER
was pop sculpture
1983 (a MERMAN) multi-track symphony
FOXY LADY and PURPLE HAZE *** and drugs
HEY JOE and ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER
nifty covers

but it was only in those three fluid blues jams
launched by deep bass and lurching drums
standing on albert king's shoulders
that acid and sonics unlocked the rigid gates of reality
the landscape melting in a psychedelic instant
the trip coming on inexorably
then at warp speed
fillmores became colosseums
roofs shrugged off, slicing treetops
delivering us to a battlefield no one had known existed
a war without violence but with neural flashing conflict
and fantastic consequences

twirling his guitar like a magic lasso out out out
making contact with patrols buzzing through the galaxy
he grabbed the slurping wah and whammy,
wrestling them
into enormous axes, chained maces and
networked nuclear swords
jimi riding elephants and african curtains past the clouds
rushing through different dimensions, pinballing
across the stars
carrying us longhairs with him, jimi
the grooviest warrior
castles disintegrating as he stepped through them

the lyrics were peripheral
singing about longing in HEAR MY TRAIN
****** swagger in RED HOUSE
confronting the issues more directly
in VOODOO CHILD
laughing about his colossal strength
his ridiculous psychic power blasting open
every wretched door
jimi so brave and bold and debonair
charging past speed limits, not with scales and chords
but with lightning bolts, blue notes and a carpet
of feedback
which he captured and twisted into climaxes
galloping across a cosmos of souls, way past calculation
spilling emotion, blues and riffs over the earth
in a scramble
to overcome the forces against us
we could even SEE the armies as jimi confronted them
all alone but with our ears as eyes upon him

and all the seas that jimi hendrix swam through
here on earth
the hydraulic groupies, carnivorous managers
drugs and rock star glamour
NOTHNG next to those cosmic dogfights

and when he was finished, when the battle was over
and the song ended in victory for everyone
and the tendrils returned to the soil
and we all had our final ******
and he tuned up for the next number
the entire firmament revolved once
and applauded itself

john cougar mellencamp
jettisoned “cougar” long ago
it served its purpose
now it’s up for grabs
beyonce cougar knowles
mark cougar zuckerburg
donald cougar trump
the ***** cougar poet

there is no justice in this world
not in nature’s rules, nor human
the cosmos is a cockeyed moral labyrinth
if you want justice
you must apply it yourself
according to your own standards
and your best abilities
don’t expect to receive it in turn
not even on christmas morning
santa has other priorities

this week thurston moore liked one of my videos
robert hunter liked one of my poems
and some japanese kid liked my latest soundcloud tune
that’s sonic youth, the grateful dead and the asian empire
if you’re keeping score
like i am

haven’t thought about it in a while
but in a lifetime of wacky decisions
the wildest thing i’ve ever done
was at age 16, my girlfriend 15
we’d ******* a bunch
but i wanted to spend the night together
it was important to me
god knows why
so we made a plan
one night i sat on the couch
watching TV with her mom, dad
her brother and sister
and at 10 pm i said goodnight
but instead of going out the front door
i snuck upstairs to her room
hiding in her closet with a flashlight
and dostoevsky’s house of the dead
no thought of repercussions
which might have ranged from shrieking
to assault to jail to fatality
my mind was focused on one thing only
even more astonishing
from my current advanced perspective
my bladder was entirely tame
no need for any bathroom break
a couple of hours and several chapters later
when the house was silent
i slipped into her bed
mmm, mmm, mmm
at 5 am i skulked down the stairs
and hiked to the diner for a victory breakfast

i’m king of the astral plane
and if there’s any justice
i mean, there is no justice
but if there WERE any justice
when i kick off
i’d ascend my throne
and spit lightning bolts
at all the other kings

last day before vacation
so you know you gotta pay
an hour left on my shift
the patient was going full linda blair
arched pelvis grinding out of the bed
trying to pummel one and all
but when i came in the room
i triggered something special
YOU ****
i thought her head was gonna spin completely around
she punched me
people straining to hold her back
as she desperately snapped, trying to get a bite of me
GET OUT
GET THE **** OUT OF THE ROOM
as i got the **** out of the room
i explained to the nurses and doctors
i often have this effect on women

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

jackson browne's Late for the Sky is an uncanny song
illuminating the moment right before you split
with someone you love
the latenight time when despite all the swerving
you see the end of the road
the grieving and inevitability
built right into the overtones
i liked it before i had a girlfriend
and when i had one and we built a world together
and broke up
i listened to it and shook my head in recognition
and thought what a good song

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

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

people lie constantly
mostly to themselves
cause they're the only ones
who give a ****
we lie about who we are
and that's ok
sometimes it helps us
become who we want to be
a dream is a lie is a dream

lounging on couch, young naked
chin resting on thin shoulder
she across room, pad on lap
penning preliminary sketches

outside, one sickening screech
of brakes, one suspended gasp
of skidding, one tremendous crash

not a twitched nerve in his body
no stroke broken on her pad

events outside remain outside

sharing a dilapidated porch and shrinking fifth of jim beam
with my friend pete
we’re in maine celebrating his fourth novel
eagerly awaited by his ten fans
the sun is sinking and pete has his ruger 380
taking potshots at a statue of cervantes on the lawn
“what’s your issue?” i ask as he clips cervantes’ shoulder
“jealousy?”
“no,” he drawls, casually reloading
“******* never wrote a followup to don quixote”

waiting for the stars to align
meanwhile
there’s tacos, the kids, the cats
and us
and the stars loop de loop
to scoop us up

if i can’t give a lunatic poem
to a lunatic lady
what’s the point of writing one?
well, maybe there is no point

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

we shared manhattan
me partying in fetid basements
you dancing on skyscrapers
magic is a mild word
it’s a miracle we’re alive
so let’s hook up one more time
i’ll meet you at midnight
on the tip of the empire state building

make no mistake
this is a country
where men blow the heads off little children
beyond their parents’ recognition
where republicans will not allow democrats
to win an election
where we haplessly strangle the environment
to a breathless end
make no mistake
it all means something
but what--
besides the obvious?

i live for music
but it’s undeniable
music is manipulation
roll over beethoven
roll over taylor swift
"i want to move people"
uh huh
move them to do what?
spend a few bucks?
worship you?
but i'm not talking to you
jeff beck
the man just wanted to play guitar
and **** did he

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