ash

worse than anything that has gone before * i as no go fu the pogiz ded man - no way * no mo sef steam * when they got back to the hideout, they laughed their asses off * shine the light * everything is more real after it already happens * after the other side beat the shit out of him, he had trouble thinking and talking, and his own friends lost interest in him * he didn’t mind the constipation - that was between him and god - but not fitting into his uniform made him lose his self-esteem * almost thirty years old - and no war in sight! he wondered if he would ever join the hero’s hall of fame * now that he was locked up, and would be talking to interrogators instead of to his victims, he would need a new vocabulary * the guards were not bad guys after you got to know them. they were all perverts too. *

volcano

somebody tried to talk to me the other day * quite an experience * short attention span * i just like to watch the red sox games and not get too alive * you know * jack didn’t like to talk but he was easily enraged * there was this guy * when the missionary saw the volcano looming through the mist, his heart began to beat rapidly and he forgot to pray * that’s a dirty shame * george brady had mores jokes to tell than any man in the county. you name it, he had a joke about it. where did he get them? * it all started in the schoolyard * god was watching, but he wasn’t listening * even then, when they were just starting out, they specialized * everybody has their own style - it can’t be learned or unlearned * speak up, young man *

like a movie

you know how it is when you just happen to see somebody you know from a second or third floor window or from a bus window it’s like they are in a movie and they don't see you and they don't know you see them and even if you don’t like them or forgot them and never want to talk to them again they look so sad and lost and alone

lunch hour

the maidens who work in the miasma of moloch's malaria move their feet slowly and their pocketbooks calmly in the pure blue afternoon of atlantis the flower seller has survived but the man who sold newspapers (printed on paper) is history and the shoe shine man has been written out of the history which has itself been burned in the blast furnace of buck rogers's blueberry pies i would like to ask the flower seller the secret of her enduring fame but the curtain of caution falls over me like catwoman's caressing camellias as don fernando tunes his piano for his final performance outside the newly opened panera's someday - very soon savants will remember panera, and ruby tuesdays, and dunkin donuts as the flashing emblems and impregnable strongholds of a lost empire and nothing , not even the smiles of aging maidens opening their pocketbooks to buy flowers in the blue afternoon of betelgeuse from the last flower vendor in the expanding universe is so sad as a lost empire

movie poem

life is a movie, as long as you can buy a large diet pepsi, and a big box of sno caps, and find a seat in the darkness, and get through the previews, all will be well

creation

i was walking down the street and i saw some regular people just regular people not famous not crazy nothing in particular just regular people lots of them i kept seeing them they just kept on coming young and old but mostly old the world is getting old that's just a fact and i thought these are just regular people regular people being regular i don't know what else i expected but there they were and are they just keep rolling along and cats and dogs and hamsters and tropical fish and other creatures too creation there you have it, my friend