Over the past few days I've started transcribing old typewritten poems from when I lived in Denver. It was an period in my writing that reflected that stage in my drinking and living at the time. I've been working on putting together more and more old poems and muskrat ramblings from that era. Slowly working on hopefully a collection of both old and new works and am hoping to be shopping it around by the end of the summer to mid fall. Fingers crossed. I hope you enjoy my lil animals.
1236 Corona
The moon was hanging heavy like a cinderblock dangling from
one arm
And the hole in the blanket cut out like a broken thumbnail
The queen of spades dyed her hair red, while blue contacts
give a false sunrise
Cigarette smoke off a second story balcony, a 747 comet tail
heading for the coast.
There are two olives left in a shallow bowl next to the
ranch dressing
There is no drama in the situation, just orange juice and
cold coffee.
All the phone numbers she left on bar napkins turn out to be
wrong numbers
Drinking soda at the bar makes for long nights and longer
walks through downtown.
If my breath is as hard as ashtrays and my elbows face down
in bed,
Wake me after two in the afternoon with black cat paws
running across wood floors
Let the queen of hearts have her breakfast behind our shower
curtains
Say hello to the folks and drive over fifty through the
Wisconsin Dells for me.
Japanese literature in the morning, tequila after coffee and
French fries at the diner
A punch drunk Qwest neon horizon forces its way through
morning smog
Second story wood plank porches make for excellent cigarette
litter boxes
There is snow on blank branches, garlic powder crusted hash
browns in the kitchen,
Black tea bags collect mold on the dining room table
and orange juice wants more drama than the morning newspaper
promises
the only head on his pillow is his own half bald and ink
stained
I hope you enjoy mis amigos, as always solidarity forever, live free, ride free, be safe
god speed lil animals,