why
why don't we strip
no first let's hit all the lights
one candle somewhere
then strip our clothes off
be fat & old & walrus-like
nude
after that, i don't know,
sleep
sleep good & deep
enhancements of
rem ga-
lore
somewhere
we cum
sap
-like
liquids
of love
& people
whisper
people
whisper
about
everything
nobody
cares
half the earth
away
allah
is decapitated
sloppily
a woman
moans
her children
are pieces
of children
let us imagine
at some obscure juncture
of this evening the bottle
cap is lost
cap of the jim
beam black has
disappeared
ann
sd she
had it
yes
she knew
where it was
then
voila
it ain't there
no big
deal
i'm not angry
but
ann
portends
my anger
with
shutting herself
in the
bed-
room
feeling
fucking
guilty?
i don't
know
i don't
get it
we're both
fairly
out
of our
minds
iraq goodbye
i think he's dead.
i think saddam is dead.
bin laden,
well, that's
a whole
different
kettle
of fish.
illusionary
tactics
better
than asshole
ishness of
saddam -- bin
laden
is a shape-shifter
he's
a thousand people
a little
pig-tail'd girl,
a marine,
dea agent,
farmer in iowa
riding a bumpy tractor.
bin laden
has big tits
& a surgical
cunt
& keith richards
is his/her boyfriend.
his/her
sex partner.
keith
just laughs
like a skeleton
smiles
& comes
a few times
a day
bin laden meantime
is in
hiding
& being
cloned
a million
times over
a trillion
selves
of his
self.
saddam,
the fuckhead,
is
dead.
beck's "sea of change"
the computer clock says
6:58, but the digital alarm
behind me is 7:19
& that's the real time.
or around the real time.
microwave is 7:21
while stereo clock
7:20
& clock on the stove
is about 7:20
thereabouts as
the thin red arms
try to straighten
& stay
midnight or noon forever
i don't know what
time it is, exactly,
especially when
drunk, precisely,
yes,
embedded
with
stones of smoke
luckystone
opium
hash oil
glands
brain
chemicals
gleaming like
free amerika
children
are being
slaughter-
ed even as i
type
this
idiotic
poem
& nobody
wants
to
die
even
the
dead
want life back
first day of spring
it's a toledo gray day,
drizzle or just wetness
in the shadowy air.
i'm going bald up on top
& behind my head, i
say look doc i'm losing
my hair he laughs
he grins big
says yeah
we all are
i say don't they
make something
for baldness now
he laughs
he grins like
he can't stop
grinning
let's not worry
about it
he chuckles
stethoscoping
my chest
for a longer
time than
usual
a perfect picture of
health! he announces
i laugh
yeah
maybe i
blush
that was
yesterday
& today
suddenly
it's
today
& i'm getting
balder
& fatter
& crazier
than
ever
jim beam black
i've just returned from a rainy
afternoon trek in the jeep. mailed
some bills, picked up my prescription,
purchased five $1,000 a week for life
instant lottery tickets
because i thought of it
& thinking of it
is maybe a sign of luck?
of rainy day fantasy?
well, next i hit
the state store
since it's friday.
jim beam black
on sale even,
bottle in a big black
collector's tin too.
sits on the kitchen
table, uncrack'd,
awaiting
the calm flurry of
ann in an
hour.
i'm having coffee
now.
i'm biding
my time.
picture us
throwing back
shots
toasting the war,
toasting peace,
toasting toast,
toasting jim beam
black, toasting
the first day
of spring.
& yes,
later,
we'll
be very toasted;
yes,
twin pieces
of black
toast.
read up
in touch with ron androla
...and john hennessey
click to view movie/poem - eggs