Mum’s the
word when
it comes
to surgery.
I clean
windows for a
lot of
old people,
& if I
tell them
I had
aneurysm surgery
when they
inquire about
my health,
they brighten
up &
want to
swap stories.
So now I say
“Never Better”,
which is
what my
father used
to say,
right up
until he
refused
surgery
& died.
Filed under poems & short jabs
When you
no longer
have any
expectations
fat little
moments of
happiness
tumble
out of
the sky.
Filed under poems & short jabs
I lend a
helping hand to
small children
dogs &
crazy people
when I can.
The rest
of you can
go fuck
yourselves.
Filed under poems & short jabs
I don’t
know which is
more depressing–
driving a
sword between
a bull’s
shoulder blades
or
riding him
with a
rope cinched
around his
balls.
Filed under poems & short jabs
Is it a good thing or a bad thing
that no one ever dropped it into the
water supply? I think it
doesn’t much matter.
I’ve seen people go
stark-raving mad on
a hit of acid but
I’ve never seen anyone
turn into a sage.
I saw a musician
who never did drugs and
seldom even drank
drop a hit before
going on stage
one night, and
his only comment
at the end of the
last set was:
interesting.
Then he took a
hit every night
for a year &
after that
never touched
the stuff again.
I saw an artist
change the nature
of his painting
in the middle of
an acid trip;
twenty years later
his new direction
gained him
national recognition.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
and Edgar Allan Poe were
opium eaters,
and William Butler
Yates did
peyote buttons.
Ken Kesey wrote
one of the
best novels of
the second half
of the
20th centrury
on acid.
The only thing to learn
from all this
is that we are
doomed unless we
create a world in which
if you drop acid,
nothing changes.
Filed under poems & short jabs
Why is it that
out of a lifetime
of sexual encounters,
just a handful
remain vivid
in the mind?
Like the time you
brushed against a
total stranger
in a
crowded room.
Filed under poems & short jabs
