Meta Jane

Published March 31, 2018 in Cintusia , Meta Jane - 0 Comments

Meta Jane

Bill collector,




She shocked me.




Man collective.

She shocked me.

When she changed her name


Meta Jane.

“If you vibe with Meta, call me Meta.”

“If you vibe with Jane, call me Jane.” said Meta Jane.

“If you vibe with Meta Jane, then call me for dinner.

I’ll be there with bells on.”

Code Talk

Published March 26, 2018 in Max - 0 Comments

Code Talk

Max was half asleep on the couch,

watching a rerun of the Dick Cavett Show.

A fat Orson Wells was the guest

musing about being visited by “the black dog”

Churchill’s euphemism for depression.

“Hmpf” he snorted at the tv, “What does he know?”

Petting his little black companion,

inbred and manic.

He reached down and took the rock

that it was chewing from it’s mouth.

“Not the brightest in the litter, were you?”

The pooch licked his face

and dug his head into his armpit.

Fret Me See

Published March 20, 2018 in Hobos , Tuck - 0 Comments

Fret Me See

My wife gave me a one way Greyhound ticket to Vegas.

She threw in $37.58 in loose change.

Told me she wanted me out of her life.

I didn’t believe it though.

Deep down, I think she just wanted to set me free.

Let me out of the ball and chain thing that

I have never been good at.

I’m grateful and there’s a whole country

of freight trains with my name on them.

Or they will once I tag them

with my nom de plum: Tuck.

They called me that cause I’m good at hiding.

I’m not bad at lying either.

Feening the Almighty

Published March 15, 2018 in Hobos - 0 Comments

Feening the Almighty3

Had the DTs in Cheyenne.

Jumped an empty boxcar north.

Hid under abridge pillar next to the Air Force base.

Sat my backpack down in the corner.

My vodka fell out when I made the jump.

Once I made Greybull I was in terrible shape.

2 men tried to kill me and take my gear.

Only they weren’t real.

The rail yard police pinched me for trespassing

and I told them I was attacked.

They asked me how much I’d been drinking.

Wound up in a local hospital

where I got a valium injection and

and a shot of Haldal in my left ass cheek.

Never had it that bad before.

The Mouths of Babes

Published February 28, 2018 in Mickey - 0 Comments

The Mouths of Babes

Crisp Saturday morning,

grass still wet with dew.

Red cardinal stopped to survey the scene.

Mickey threw the ball

to little three year old Jacob.

Catching it the boy asked

“Daddy, do you believe in God?”

Taken aback slightly,

“Yes, I do.”

Then, in kind.

“Do you?”

“God brought me to you”, the boy said, matter of fact.

Mickey dropped the ball,

felt a rush of emotion

that he didn’t want the boy to see.

Card People

Published February 25, 2018 in Mickey - 0 Comments

Card People

Some nights it seems like a flat world with eight sides.

One for each day of the week

and one for hyperbole and dreams.

And if lady luck don’t give a fuck,

Mickey could look out over a sea of chips;

red, white and blue

and see Mother earth’s seven seas

as seven great head hunting mouths

ready to devour him and his American boy past time.

He couldn’t believe this guy had such a disgusting tell.

But it was plain to see.

Every time he had a bad hand

he picked his nose and rolled it between his fingers.

Smelled it.

“It came from your nose, there’s nothing to smell!”

Mickey wanted to scream.

But he kept quiet, checked

and took his entire pile of chips.

And a big squeeze off the hand sanitizer.

A Wonderful World

Published February 22, 2018 in Paulie - 0 Comments

A Wonderful World

He’s an animist.

Simply because he knows

that objects are alive.

Daily, in meditation,

he remembers to thank them

for their service.

He talks to them like pets.

Tried to feed them,

but it is difficult to find something

a wheelbarrow might eat.

Oil seemed like a good idea,

but it was hard to tell.

Dog Days

Published February 17, 2018 in Mikio - 0 Comments

Dog days

The new year was just days away.

Spring would soon follow

and another year of possibility

and potential would arrive.

The neighbor’s dog sang

a mournful song as it sat alone

chained into the

small space between the houses.

Mikio wanted to feel

the hope of spring

but, instead he

felt tired and defeated.

His youth was gone,

as was his savings.

Living in the moment

was no longer a choice.

It had become a necessity.

Your Mother Keeps a Man

Published February 7, 2018 in Jack Sprat - 0 Comments

Yo Mama

It was an open secret

and Jack just plain hated him.

Ruth, his mother,

was still waiting for the divorce

to be finalized

and Mr. Smarmy Pants

was already circling.

He had a pointed face that

arrived at his nose

and made him look like a rat.

He offered to give Jack and his buddy

a ride to the train station

in his little red sports car.

There was barely enough room for two

in the front and Jack had to squeeze

in behind the seats.

He wanted so badly to reach around

and poke his eyes out.

“Going to the Casino tonight”

the rat said, “I’m feeling lucky.”

A Caged Bird Sings

Published February 3, 2018 in Rants and Resistance - 0 Comments

A Caged Bird

The bluebird of happiness,

it turns out,

was at home all along

in a cage.

It sang a melody that was

unquestionably beautiful,

but largely ignored.

Because familiarity makes us

take things for granted.

But what about the bluebird’s happiness?

If there really were a paradigm shift,

maybe the power dynamic

that enslaves nature for

our entertainment

could be stopped.

And then, the bluebird herself

might find happiness

flying free

perched on whatever tree it wants.