Sunday, January 30, 2011


I try to read the old poets. I go to the bookstores and pick up their books. And I open them up, and then I say YAWN. And I actually yawn. You always yawn after you say yawn. I discovered this about the poetry of old poets when I read the old poets.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011


It's no fun watching a movie with a hit song
called FREDDIE'S DEAD when one of
the characters in the movie is named Freddie.
You just kinda keep waiting and waiting.

Sunday, January 16, 2011


Ann Hodges decided to take a nap in 1954.

“I think I will take a nap” said Ann Hodges,

which she did. She wasn’t thinking of

the word ‘scaevity’ when she was hit

by a meteorite that fell through her roof.

‘Scaevity’ means ‘unlucky.’ It’s a noun.

Although it would be understandable if she did.

But no one has used scaevity in...oh, how long

has it been? Maybe a hundred years. Maybe two.

It’s because so far there has been one person in the world

who has ever suffered from scaevity due to meteorites:

yes--Ann Hodges, nap taker.



When the folks at Listerine told me that I could get rid of unsightly germs, dandruff and flakes if I used Listerine Brand Toothpaste, my head exploded all over the desk, the chairs, the rug.

FLASH FICTION: April 18, 1949

Saturday, January 15, 2011


Did you like it? I can't decide. Here is mine, if you would like that.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011


I was looking through books about terrible things and decided not to read anything that was terrible but instead to look at the pictures about things that were terrible.

When I looked at MY LIFE IS RUINED, this is what I found:

a little chinese boy crying with a blue colored face

Marmite yeast extracted champagne (I think from England)

The New York Yankees

a muscular man with an ammo belt and rifle (maybe Fess Parker)

a smiley face frowning

a smiley face sticking its tongue out

Superman with his head sketched in without color

Scooby Doo and the Gang

a hammer hammering a nail tied in a knot

Garfield asleep on a pillow

Superman proper

a dog with red booties collapsing from the strain saying
“Why would they do this to me?”

a No Smoking Sign

Chattering Teeth

a cloud that says “You are forbidden to talk about it”

Many bicycles and one banana

Then I went over and looked at
There I found:

a cup of coffee, nice

the sphinx and a pyramid

a foot with six toes and pink toenail polish

a Hugo Boss salmon colored shirt with white stripes

Elton John

The Buddha

the word “Jess”

a smiley face

I kept going. I went to I CAN’T GO ON and found:

a cute puppy asleep on a couch

a man in a football helmet with binoculars
and a rifle in a canoe on a frozen lake in Canada

Tyrone Davis’ dance disco funk soul

a blue brassiere with white stars

a frowning owl

a carton of Marlboro Lights

a rose inside the New Testament with the Jesus parts in red

Don Johnson in Miami Vice

The Fanatics “I can’t go on” on Caped Crusader records

Sylvester Stallone in a black suit with a burgundy tie

a plate of beets and mozzarellla over polenta

3 million Samuel Becketts

no smiley faces

a spiral notebook that reads: “I’m sorry ... and I miss you”

Which was awful. So I looked at THIS IS THE END and guess what I found?

a screen that reads: EIN FRITZ LANG FILM

“Buddy Guy Can’t Quit The Blues”

grizzled prospectors on the trail after a long day

Newt Gingrich

William Shakespeare

a golf ball with a snail on it

King Arthur flour cinnamon swirl toast

a walrus in a beret

Hello Nuclear Kitty

white snowflake coconut cupcakes in aluminum foil

more Jim Morrisons than you can count, mostly skinny Jim Morrisons

David Beckham on his knees, weeping


the ivory colored corner of a baby’s room with blue trim

Finally I just said “Whatever.” And then I looked at
WHATEVER and smiled. Here’s what I found:

two tigers, playing in the snow

a panda bear snorting a frozen mountain
of cocaine


No sir. I just want his face.

Somebody asked me for my photo today.

I said, “I just want his face.”

They said, “What? What do you mean?”

I said, “I mean Paolo Conti. His face I want.”

It’s not a metaphor for life. It’s just a great face.

But I give them my face instead.

That’s life for you.

“Here’s my face. Welcome to my life.”

Thursday, January 06, 2011


Once an angry man dragged his father along the ground through his own orchard. "Stop!" cried the groaning old man at last, "Stop! I did not drag my father beyond this tree."

The Making of Americans (1925), Gertrude Stein

Wednesday, January 05, 2011


when 5000 birds fall out of the sky in Arkansas
you have to ask yourself why, oh why

I sometimes think of Leon Russell
and the siren call of his dulcet voice

and how if flows like liquid mercury
and how he looks like, let’s face it, God

and how he’s from Arkansas although
the more I think about it, and I am thinking

about it more and more, I think that Tulsa
is not in Arkansas, perhaps it is in Oklahoma

oh yes you know, Oklahoma, Tulsa
Oklahoma, where men grow up to look like God

nonchalantly killing birds with their God voices
before they vanish in a puff of smoke like a

beautiful stupid song by Elton John

Tuesday, January 04, 2011


really, there are times when a rose
looks just like a racetrack.

but the racetrack is still being built.

and it’s very lonely out there on the
racetrack with no one there.

maybe it’s christmas and everybody
is having roast beef with their families.

all the race cars are having roast beef
with their families tonight.

there are empty vases on the tables.


How I love Melody Gardot on the cover of her album called Melody Gardot.

Her name is pink and with those glasses she looks blind like Roy Orbison who wasn't blind.

Angelic like Harry Nilsson in a way, if he was alive and didn't have a beard and the letters of his name were in pink and he was a little prettier.

Melody Gardot sings sweet memories through her songs. One I like in particular is called "Sweet Memories."

At the end she sings: Roe Doe Doe, Roe Doe Doe.

One more time, everybody.

Roe Doe Doe

sweet memory

Sunday, January 02, 2011

Saturday, January 01, 2011


I am enjoying this new year, although it is only an hour long so far. I started out looking at a photograph of a happy couple smiling with two donkeys making love unbeknownst in the background, and a trifle fuzzy. Fun, yes, still, everyone says I like to complain and I do.

The year itself, for instance, has a problem: 2011. It doesn’t seem right. It seems uneven. It seems lopsided, queer, a little restless and terrible. 2010 seemed right, even, balanced, zen, silky smooth and dreamy. The last thing I learned in 2010, a right year, was that there was a monster called Nauga that advertised Naugahyde.

A teen wrote the newspaper in 1968 and asked if he could acquire a Nauga for his girlfriend in the hospital and the newspaper said Not so fast we called your mother and she said you don’t have a girlfriend in the hospital you want the Nauga monster for yourself and I bet you could use some naugahyde for your butt once you get home and your mother finds out that you are a liar.

If you turned to Page One Robert Kennedy was not asleep on the kitchen floor, and the temperature was a mild 68 degrees in Los Angeles. 1968 didn’t seem right either, and at least 2011 started out looking at a happy couple in a photograph while two donkeys made love in the background unbeknownst, much better

I think that all of that naugahyde and &c. and then much later much much more and worse in years to come, for example a baby duct taped to the window, a family dressed up as zebras and smiling, a young man on a pedestal holding a parasol and a fan in an uncertain future everybody whispers Hey you know what that is that’s now.
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