Tag Archives: loss

A Year Without Prince: Prologue

20 Apr

 

A Year Without Prince

(this thing in 4 parts, prefaced by brief rambling

followed by a quick prologue and then…….zoom!)

 

Wendy?

Yes Lisa?

I’m not Lisa. I’m Dennis

Oh, sorry Dennis. I’m not Wendy anyway. I’m also Dennis too.

Huh.

(Purple silence. Followed by dialogue)

That doesn’t mean we can’t still wear ripped t-shirts together and save the world.

Cool.

 

Prologue:

 

vagina katana

half price cheeseburgers

dogs barking like abandoned flare guns

smoking outside another long-day-embedded-

shitty-kung-fu ashtray-sky

sort of night

 

 

 

(to be continued!)

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A Month Without Nickel

9 Mar

A Month Without Nickel

 

Sleep is an old vacuum cleaner from the 1950’s

The kind they used to sell door to door

Most now buried and the ones still around

Don’t really work anymore

 

And when I do sleep

The dreams eat all the floors

Until I wake up perpetually exhausted again

With no safe place left to stand

 

I miss everything about her

Even the things that used to piss me off

 

I miss her reverse Hitler mustache

And the way she’d leave old action figure twist ties

And other random shit like ham in the middle of my futon

For me to find when I returned home from work on the weekdays

 

I miss the way she used to follow me everywhere

When I was in a bad mood and she’s slap her paw

Against me face every time my face needed slapping

 

In that way she had

That seemed to say

Hey, we’re alive

 

Life is hard

But we’ve got each other

Cat logic goddamn it

We’re gonna be ok

 

I don’t have that anymore

I’ve lost my best friend

And that reassurance that came

With the two of us simply

Being together in the same room

 

I miss the way she’d crawl beneath the blankets

On the long nights when my mind was surrounded

By all the beautiful things that have left me

 

I miss the way she’d chase me up the stairs

And I miss the way she’d manage to break into the basement

And I miss the way she’d scream for cat treats

At the top of her lungs when she was breathing

 

Nickel,

 

I miss you so much

That I have a hard time believing that you’re gone

And fuck I’m so sorry

I took you for granted

When I took you that way

 

Like we tend to take

All the things that keep us going

For granted

 

You’re buried in the back yard now

 

And I’m whatever I am

And I am now also the backyard

You’re buried in me

 

And I will carry you until

Until my legs turn to dust

And then I’ll carry you some more

 

Because fuck it

Death cannot stop us

Because I refuse to let it

 

And I know

Wherever you are

That you refuse to let it

To stop you too

 

And p.s. also

Shutter Island also misses you madly

And says: hello

 

Me Too Night at Love Shovel Ranch Poem

17 Jul

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Me Too Night at Love Shovel Ranch Poem

for Jonathan Montgomery, inventor of Me Too Poetics, Marcus If, inventor of Love Shovel Ranch, and Jewel

 

Reality makes no sense to me!

Nothingness is just another shit bar

Death is a bad pick up line

 

I’m sorry about damn near everything!

 

I walk out the door most days

as if the morning was a goddamn arctic sled race

and somebody’s just murdered all my dogs

 

I’m always alone!

 

I find it almost impossible to talk to women I want to sleep with

and I find it almost more impossible to talk to the women I don’t

 

I haven’t slept in years!

 

and when I do sleep

I wake up every 45 minutes

because everything I’ve ever lost

haunts me and post all this leaving

I’m so goddamned broken

I find it impossible

to accept other people’s love

 

I watch people in love

like I’m watching a big budget

dinosaur movie that’s lost

its 3rd act

there’s no happy ending in which

some of the characters

make it through

to the end

 

everything’s pre and post shoe drop

the dangerous set up

followed by an endless

digital film parade

of chaos and extinct

monsters devouring everything individually

and prehistorical butt plugs

and rage-y type doom

 

I feel like my atoms

are held together with

dollar store duct tape

every time I’m required

to socialize

 

I’m so fucking lost!

 

the other day

I watched a bus leave a bird

behind at a bus stop because the bird

didn’t have correct change

or maybe it had change

but couldn’t carry it to the bus stop

 

in which case the bus left the bird

because it didn’t have pockets

 

and that’s a horrible reason

to leave something

 

but still a better reason

than most of us are given

 

we are

the pocket lonely

and left

 

I’ve never fucked

a ferris wheel

and this morning

I have to admit:

I regret this

 

Back in high school I once fooled around

with an older girl who went to Ferris College

but that’s not really the same thing

 

unless fucking a ferris wheel

is like making out with a girl who’d

just won first place in the college lip syncing contest

for looking exactly like the lead singer from Vixen

 

I’m so fucking pathetic!

 

When Tundji left town

he gave me all his porn

a small box of dvds

 

but when I watched it

it felt weird

jerking off to porn that Tundji’d

already jerked off to

 

it felt weird

like Marty McFly traveling all the way back in time

just to make out with his mom in Back To The Future

 

but in the end

I jerked off anyway

it was weird, but I jerked off

because what else

are we supposed to

do?

 

Last night I had a dream

I went to a football game

in the 1990’s

and ended up hanging out

with Mick Jagger

 

and we got drunk

and he promised to publish

my new novel

 

but then he sort of got distracted

by this enormous indoor tire swing

and I stood there thinking

 

gosh, his purple shirt is so shiny

and he seems to be enjoying that tire swing

so much

he’s probably already forgotten every promise

he’s ever said to me

 

I can’t compete with a tire swing

So,

So much for my book

 

The other night I was watching the movie

Interstellar for the 39th time

and I couldn’t stop thinking

It’s so unfair

nobody ever pays attention

to the kid in the movie

who grows up to be Casey Affleck

 

and I thought, Helen

 

her love was like that,

she loved me as if I were a child

pretending to be a younger version

of Casey Affleck

 

and I felt so sad! So sat that

I was sitting around on my couch the other day

and for ten solid minutes I couldn’t get it out

of my head, Nobody says butt fuck anymore

 

or if they do, I ain’t hearing it

when we were kids

we said butt fuck all the time

not because we knew what it meant, but

because it was fun to say

 

Butt fuck! Helen! Butt fuck!

 

I’m so fucking divorced right now!

 

I still remember when Helen had left

to think things over for a couple months

and she eventually called me from the east coast

and told me she wanted a divorce

 

I totally Han Solo’d her

unplanned and spontaneous

voice calm as hell

 

Helen: I want a divorce.

Me: I know.

 

It seemed like the only 2 words

in the world at the time

The only proper response

 

I’m so fucking anti-social!

 

I’ve gone four day in a row

where the only person I talked to

the entire time was the bartender

at Chilis

 

I’m so fucking hungry!

 

If you’d have told my 17yr old hopeless romantic

and clean faced self

that he’d turn into a middle aged

bearded hermit afraid of love

 

he would’ve told you

to go fuck yourself

 

but when you tell Jewel the same news

she’s way more polite about it

 

Heartbreak!

taking the dick out of Emily Dickenson

for shit, almost 40 years

 

love is a log cabin

and when they leave

they take all the logs

 

I was sitting at the Outback

the other day writing

and a pretty lady came over

and started to talk to me

and her boobs were perfect

the way the movie Mad Max Fury Road was perfect

the only difference being Fury Road

was one movie

and in the case of her boobs

there were two

 

and I could tell that she was into me maybe

but I’m so fucking bad at picking up women

right now that the only thing I could think

to say to her was:

Talking to you right now is really depressing me.

 

so I said it

and of course

she left

 

I’m so fucking confused!

 

I was in Walmart this morning

and they were selling Amish Potato Salad

and I was like, what the fuck is Amish Potato Salad?

 

and then I thought who cares and started making up

advertising catch phrases in my head

for Amish Potato salad because when you’re alone

most of the time you have to find various ways

to pass the time and entertain yourself

 

instead of having a girlfriend

I invent slogans for Amish Potato salad

like Amish Potato Salad:

this potato salad

is not a fan of electricity

or the way Harrison Ford is looking

at that young boy’s mom

 

 

(postscript)

 

I was at the Lafayette Chilis again around 5:10 p.m. on a Wednesday

sitting at the bar and this woman walked in

 

and she was pretty and she sat next to me

exactly in that order

 

I was waiting for a black bean burger

to go and someone to love me

 

She was picking up food to go too

 

She paid with her credit card

just like I’d paid with my credit card

we had so much in common!

 

until our to go orders

showed up at the same time

her bag was enormous

and obviously filled with

food for herself and

somebody else

probably her boyfriend

 

and my tiny plastic

bag the size of one

solo veggie burger

obviously enunciated

that I was alone

 

Her bag screamed:

 

I’m in a committed relationship

We eat Chilis to go together once a week

and have sex in between the 3rd and 4th commercial break

of America’s Got Talent every Wednesday night

 

My bag screamed:

 

I have loved deeper than space time and continuums

but now I’m obviously

broken and alone

 

 

 

(for more about Jonathan Montgomery and Me Too poetics visit jonathan-montgomery.com
for more about Love Shovel Ranch visit Love Shovel Ranch. or go to their website loveshovelranch.com
for more about Jewel visit Idon’tReallyKnowJewel)

‘Night Quentin

13 Dec

55d38ce65cf377b167ce2c6d3358996f

‘Night Quentin

I lie on top of our old
futon mattress not sleeping
shaking like some mad pile
of rebuked biscuits and gravy
tossed into a cold alley after
all the restaurants close and passed
over by things like stray dogs
and particular raccoons
teeth chattering primitively
thoughts fumbling one into
the other like glass bulls fighting
over the over-exaggerated myth
of their involvement with
fragile china shops
I rest my head on a lopsided
pile of spaghetti and count rats
until the moon splits and an
all out fight breaks out underneath
the dumpster
pub tips knifing spoiled salmon
french fries drafting patriotic slogans
onto the brick of dead walls
using the wet blood of mashed potatoes
black bean burgers burned at
the General Zod like insistence of the steak
broccoli mercilessly raped dejur-like
by the soup of the day
explosions followed by the sound
of recent gun fire
I can just make out through the smoke
the subtle outlines of your peas as they
abandon my carrots
leaving me to shake here
until morning
quaking on top of our old futon mattress
wondering how long it will take you
before you start calling your new place
without me home

 

(from my book Avenge me. Baobob Tree Press)