Barry Hannah, 1942-2010
“Voice comes to you through a spell, a trance.”
Four Poems by a Cranky Old Man
SCARED STRAIGHT
Boys your age shouldn’t be
playing with balls all the time.
Sports turn a fellow queer.
Now go on. Get out of here
or else I’ll make you blow me.
I’m not homo, just really lonely!
###
LIVE & LEARN
Everybody loves kittens.
Kittens are cute.
You know what’s even better?
Kittens are mute.
But the neighbor puppy
& his shrill little bark —
that’s what I couldn’t stand.
You should’ve seen him
arc through the air.
Unfortunately, dogs don’t land
as reliably as cats.
Or so I just heard
from the crybaby kid next door.
###
GOLDEN ENOUGH
That beer is really your favorite?
My piss has more kick to it.
I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed.
What? Where are you going?
You try living on a fixed income!
###
PRACTICE NOTHING
My underwear today
are older than you.
I’d like to review
your medical school
degree, if that’s okay.
I’m old, not dumb
or crazy.
And not every doctor
plays with my prostate.
Michael Hurley
From his masterpiece “Portland Water”:
“There’s a stream runnin through the meadow / Why don’t you stop and throw a rock in the water? / I can tell by your eyes that you wanna…”
And I’m sure to the marrow in my bones that Monsieur Hurley will never record a holiday album for the kiddies.
Cooper
Happy flocking birthday, sir.
You’re no barcode, but we’re still proud to know you. (Except Sheila, I think.)
The Story I Did Tell
dear clusterflock
How often do you think about your own death?
Travel Report
The girlfriend and I stopped in Cheyenne, Wyoming, for breakfast today, on our way from North Platte, Nebraska, to Fort Collins, Colorado, the site of our vacation proper.
At the table next to ours sat a gaggle of biker dudes in their finest Sunday leathers. Their patches mostly advertised military tenures. From their age (about mine), I would guess they’d participated in Gulf War 1.
The loudest of this otherwise polite bunch originally got my attention because he seemed incapable of volume control.
Then I noticed the red, white and blue patch taking up the entire left lapel of his vest. It was the most patriotic, God-Bless-America swastika I’d ever seen — the perfect hate corsage for every occasion.
If he noticed me noticing it, he didn’t stab me with his butter knife or any knife he might have had on him.
I recommend the breakfast burrito at the Capital Grille, even though they use cheddar cheese.
Where does the time go?
Hey, y’all. Remember me?
I’m back.
What have I been up to? Things. Changed jobs, got a dog, wrote a bunch of stuff. I’m glad to be back among the ‘flock.
A Smut Story
Dear Popular Mechanics,
I’ve enjoyed the reader letters in your magazine since first sneaking a peak at your pages as a boy, but I never thought that one day I would write in with an unbelievable story of my own.
What I did on summer vacation.
Over the summer, I published this little piece of fiction over at Microhorror.com.
I don’t think many folks saw it.
Enjoy.
Marc Maron
You ever hated yourself so much you had to take a nap?
Up from underground.
Just checking in to say I haven’t checked out.
Cute.
Juked just rejected four of my poems because they were too “cute.”
Have people been saying this kind of thing behind my back? I need to know.
Phenomenal news
Tuesday, May 1, Springboard for the Arts and mnartists.org are hosting “Becoming an
Internet Phenomenon,” a free workshop/panel discussion at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis.
I have been asked to serve on the panel.
I can imagine being asked to leave the Walker, but to appear there…?
I’m going on tour.
Yours truly.
This is, I’ve decided, the best picture I’ve ever taken.
Credit to my co-worker, Nick Zdon, who snapped it.
S.A.D.
If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.
If you don’t like the weatherman, wait five months.
Miss Minnesota
I entered a chapbook contest today. This is not something I ordinarily do.
Goodwill (The Revision)
The list of errands
I found in the pocket
of this new thrift-store
shirt
should keep me busy.
I’m not poor
or hurt. I would know.
I bought it (just $1.44)
because
I’ve got nothing better
to do
with my time.
Goodwill
The list of errands
I found in the pocket
of this thrift-store shirt
should keep me busy
for a few years.
That’s fine with me.
I’ve got nothing
else to do.
People
Thousands of years ago, people didn’t read tabloid magazines. Or so say archeologists.
Heaven (is an expensive place to stay)
Wrapped in that white hotel bathrobe
she looked like a child
of God
devouring
two room service hamburgers.
Brian’s Optimism vs. Kottke’s and Daryl’s
Against my own better judgment I will admit to optimism about the fact that how we perceive ourselves and how we are perceived by others are not, in any way, related. We’re never as transparent as we fear, which means there is always an opportunity to transform our shit when we get tired of living with it. That freedom is more powerful than holiday blues, seasonal depression and birthday anxiety put together.
Well
My psychiatrists all say I’m neither crazy nor hypochondriacal.
I’ve been thinking.
The truth is whatever you choose to believe.