Saturday, January 28, 2017

POEMS

HOOF

In line before the fourth race, I dressed fine in a North Face.
Needed me some money for a honey and a court case
and my horse, Thunderbird, had come in third-
to last place last race! I was unsure, future-wise,

and, at this juncture, super high–
a stupid guy with shoes untied who threw up on an uber guy
the night before, and ruined my Hawaiian shirt to wipe the floor. 

My sight was poor!
what was I, an idiot? Boozer and a loser?
A dumb, ripe cyclist in the wide eyes of a cougar?
yes I told myself. I just don’t have the winning touch.
the type of folks who win a lot don’t lose
or bang their shins this much.
I’m just a loser, drained by life’s remorseless spurs.
Resolved to cut my loss, I went to where the horses were.
Had just bummed a rollie from a recent bride beside me
when my eyes saw something holy there:
a horse named "Tighty Whitey."
If you saw the sight delight me then you might exclaim politely
I was getting a mite hyphy. Try to breathe and light the Bali,
maybe you took too much molly.
But I didn’t—just felt jolly
because there was something rare about this mare. Not the hair
upon her mane, nor the carrot in her jaws there,
but the essence of her HOOF’s what struck me worthy of applause there.
Standing dumb and wide-eyed, like a fish in a niche British chip shop,
I saw the truth inside that hoof
and its clip clops rang out like hip hop.



 KYLE
My car’s missing a driver’s side window.
I’m always at war with the elements.
Scotch tape keeps the rain from coming in, though,
and inside the ashtray, there’s hella mints.
A crackhead stole my stereo system.
My friend Tim broke the cigarette lighter
He’s an engineer now, and a Christian--
helps Uncle Sam design bigger jet fighters.
I tore him out the T’s in my Rolodex
when he moved, and besides, my phone’s broken.
His wife’s crazy, and can’t control her pets.
It’s been 46 months since we’ve spoken.
Want to tell Tim I grew out my deadlocks;
Want to tell him that I don’t miss his grin.
(Discs of TED Talks nicked from a redbox
can stimulate my mind better than him!)
I need some time now to spend time with ME--
Take a night in to re-whiten my skin.
B
ury my keys so I don’t get a DUI (*“dwee”)
Party right here, outside Bank of Marin.



THE ANCIENT MASTER’S SUICIDE HAIKU

This haiku will be
--gasp--
my shortest.

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