Bach to school

Back to school....
Homicide now and then

 

A Quikie In The Shade

Saints of jazz

A Quickie In The Shade

Eves dripping with heat. Dog in the street. The hair over his paws. Stuck to the tar.

She was born overweight. Spend her adult life worried about her ankles.

A quarter lay on the sidewalk. A snail crawled over the face of the Queen.

The scars from the war. Were still waking him up in the alley. Between those condominiums that were being renovated.

The President is handsome. Aren't they all.

The t-shirt is stuck to my skin. Won't come off without the use of an X-acto knife. My tears are turning into steam. And the way she looks at me. Is the last thing I can afford.

 

Pickled Forest

She invited me for tea. I took off my shoes.

Broke and pregnant

Jimmy chuckled as he recalled some event from his past. That was another thing about Jimmy. He was real good at paving over disagreements. “My dear mother was the wheel on my early jobs. What a great old gal. She taught me everything I know about my line of work. It was like college. Bank robbing is a trade, lad. It takes planning, timing, and a sound judgment of character. Mom and dad used to rob banks clear across Saskatchewan. They were the Bonnie and Clyde of their generation. For ten years they rolled over those dirt roads from town to town. Made a small fortune. Lived a humble life. Put their money in stocks. Mom only made one mistake in her life.”
I looked at Jimmy. He was enjoying himself.
“And what was that?”
“She trusted my dad. He ran off with all their money. Left her broke and pregnant.”
Jimmy flicked his cigar out the window.
(An excerpt from my new book SNOW. Free to download and read. For now.)

Nixon was dead

 

1972

The suicide pacts. Were never spoken about. But you got to read the fine print when you were on acid. Richard Nixon was on TV. He swore to keep his hands off Cambodia. But I could feel his fingers under the table. Reaching for my genitals.

All those black faces. Glaring. Like guns. Ready to pop off. And Louise used to sit beside me. In ethics. She told me she hadn't slept for weeks. That we owed a responsibility to take care of each other. And I don't know why. I found it so difficult. To speak.

We marched on the bridges. Laughed over the river. Watched with suspicion. The police leaning against their vehicles. Paulette told me she was on the pill. In the middle of the night I sometimes felt like I was still seven years old.

We woke up. A couple of decades had passed. I don't know what happened to Laura. Some of us had children. Love was no longer like vertigo. Nixon was dead. And we all had time to dance.

Baltimore Catechism

 

8:00 A.M.

8:00 A.M.

Woke up at 4. 5. And 7. Had a shower. Bothered by a rash. Set the coffee. Timer. Left a kiss on her forehead. Took out the trash.

Sunlight a snake. Crawling over the roofs. My tongue. Across paradise. There's something going on. In the parking lot. Near the red Toyota. Two shadows are now one.

Traffic chaos. Like Ann Coulter. Kids are screaming in the back seat. The radio gives you the impression. That no one is being tortured. By the heat.

Trucks lined up on the Ambassador Bridge. Waiting for inspection. I feel like jumping. Into a different life. Somewhere where Irene still thinks about me. And our dreams haven't gone to seed. Sometimes God seems like a boring notion.

Waiting for you.

Baltimore Catechism

Betty Crocker was murdered by her egg beater.

http://powerofh.deviantart.com/gallery/

I'm so tired, I need another cigarette....

Snow

Elvis is in the green room

That's it for today.

Baltimore Catechism

Last Supper

noises upstairs. I'm supposed to be alone.

Baltimore Catechism

ungrammatically

I got to get rid of headache. Make me feel. Ungrammatical.

Baltimore Catechism

Howard Hughes died. But his nails live on.

Black Bird on kobo
 Baltimore Catechism

I was always impressed with George Romney, Mitt's father. As I recall he seemed like a straight shooter.

Mitt

Why would you name your kid, Mitt?
Snow

 

The hammer and the saw. Hi Hoe la filio. The hammer and the saw.
Snow

 

Delicious
The Moron

 

He put them in a brown paper bag. And rolled it up and put the bag in a plastic bag. They were still screaming.

Everyone wants something for nothing. I want nothing. For something. Tough guy.

A spider crawled across the yellow. I can't say what.

Crowd Noises

Images for my ebook Crowd Noises.

Before they change into adolescents, boys have other dreams.

The conventions are coming up. I wonder if there will be a new VP for the Democrats. And whether it will be Mrs.Clinton.
These pics are illustrations from by book, The Black Bird.

Bogart. Actor. Celebrity. Husband. As Sam Spade. In the movie The Maltese Falcon. Baring of a soul. Stripping down of a life. Reaching beyond the point of death. To Bogart as a boy. Steeped in mythic reality. Originally published in 1982 by The Porcupine's Quill. Finalist in the 2004 Eppie Awards for Poetry