This Is How We Do Business: on drinking

Lorem Ipsum

Net Junkie

Facebook quizzes help me get through the day

sometimes they take up most of the day and

tell me that my heart is purple so I am creative

or that I am Wolverine or that I am sexually

French or that I am like like Mexican food

which is true dude and sometimes they are

just totally wrong, and I sing a little song

in the comments section about that and how I

wish these people would learn to spell check

Jack or get off the pills or something and then

I take another one even though there is work

to be done and I wonder why I bother but

it is electronic crack and I keep doing it

and I drink and chat with women I

barely know and then I take another quiz

or maybe a whiz once in awhile, and then

I take another quiz and another one that asks

what sexual position I am and it tells me that

I am a cowgirl and that reminds me of

an old joke about riding her from behind

then whispering her sister's name in her

ear and trying to hold on while she tries

to kill you and that makes me chuckle

to myself and grin again for a minute and then

I go to living social and I pick five things I can

reach from where I am sitting and they are

a cup of coffee, an axe, a knife, my computer

and my cellphone and I pick five places I've lived

and they are California, Colorado, Florida, Nebraska,

and Washington and I comment that Nebraska really sucks

and then I go do another quiz and then I pick five

vacation spots and flirt with this chick in New York

and then I do another quiz and then I check my email

again because some students might be asking for

clarification or something and then I do a quiz

about what infectious disease I am and then

I find out that I am the Black Plague which is

apropos and then I comment that I am thinking

about moving to China and then I smoke another

cigarette and have another drink and think that

I really have to write that poem soon and then

I take another quiz, and maybe a whiz

Lorem

In my backyard, in the morning, in the Spring.

In my backyard I sit

in a swivel chair and hear

the birds of spring

chirping and trilling

in the morning and look

at the crimson maple from Japan

that we planted last year

and think of other places

and other years

gone past or yet to come

in which I have heard or will hear

the birds in spring for no reason

in particular, but they always remind me

that life is fleeting

and flying by me with no great success

and my heart is dying of

love and cigarettes, and my children

growing up and up and soon

will go away, but the sun is shining

down into my yard on this spring day

and the grass is greening and

the flowers blooming

in beds and on the trees

and in the mornings

my soul yearns to be free

of all the burdens that age

has brought to me but I

have few regrets

though my life is pointless and

I'm burdened by more debts to

gods and men than I can shake my dick at

so I just tilt my hat back and

look at that red maple

and listen to the birds while

the morning sun beats down and

takes away the chill of the night before

and I light another cigarette

and write about the things I see

near and far from me

while I sit in my backyard

in the morning in the spring.

Friday, June 12, 2009

on drinking

Drinking vodka in the morning
is not such a bad thing really
it beats the hell out of toast
with jelly and it actually provides
a lot of empty calories so I don't
fatten up any and I am cruising by
noon and I am chillin' and ready
for a nap by two but usually don't
get one but sometimes, sometimes
it seems like there ought to be a
better way so I write poetry and
talk to girls and look up into the
sky and wonder why that cloud
looks like a giant penis what wind
currents shaped it that way and
I wonder why the people walking
by are dressed like that is it a new
fad or something? Looks stupid
then I write about them and I
somehow get through the day.

Lorem Ipsum

The seed of men

You see I have before me, upon the table now,

a darkening seed, more clamshaped than round.

Around its rim it has a running line of black,

and lighter colors highlight it, along a virtual crack

To some you see it would be trash

a thing to chuck, to burn to ash, or to throw away

but I hold it cause it holds me luck, and love potentially

I know not just what it is, not ash, nor oak or pine.

It ain't no beech, nor willow tree, this seed, this seed of mine.

I do not know just what it is, but tis a good example

tis polished to a high degree also, by the ample

cradling, in me pocket, hand, and pillow

this seed, this seed of mine, not oak, or ash, nor willow.

This seed I use it to describe, the nature of a thing—

of essays, and sealing wax, cannibals, and kings.

Because you see I tell them, not oft', but now'again

I really don'know just what it is, and that's what makes me grin

to myself and think, I do not know if my eye

is telling me the the truth today, or yet another lie

as it often has before, what ya think s'truth or lie

I ask, once we have kicked open that door.

I sometimes find I'm not suprisesd, but rather floored,

by the things that some believe will make them better men,

the same by the things they think iniquity and sin.

So I look down at the floor, rub my seed and grin,

and think, it's no suprise y'all, from smaller seeds come men.

Lorem Ipsum

Lorem

Friday, June 12, 2009

on drinking

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