Archive for March, 2009

Saved … by Christopher Robin

Posted in Christopher Robin on March 11, 2009 by Scot


my lover arrives with a litany:
the kid with fetal alcohol syndrome
and his abusive parents,
her mother with dementia,
the French immigrant,
(her husband),
lonely, jealous-
all I want is to be quiet
and just make out-
we lay together in my bed
in the dark , kissing,
not letting go
but not doing much more
her phone rings
friend in a wheelchair is
drinking again,
she answers:
“Alcoholism is the easiest thing in the world to cure!
Once you quit, it’s easy! You’ll be healthy again!
You can do anything!”
I want to tell her most of that is a damn lie
but I keep my mouth shut-
after the 3rd call
she hangs up,
and crawls between my legs-
she’s saved me more than once
and sometimes lying quietly
or quietly lying
is the best a man can do

Time Enough in Death…by William Taylor Jr.

Posted in William Taylor Jr. on March 9, 2009 by Scot


It’s true, we’ve never learned
to be useful.

What, with time and it’s
teeth of fire

and death’s fierce hunger
always at our backs,

it’s hard to concentrate
on the lesser things.

We are listening
to ancient voices,

reaching for the sun
with frozen hands,

embracing any flame
that will have us,

strangely proud of our burning.

We are lost in the fog
and mountains of our madness,

in search of  a strange music
to bring back to a world

that has no use for it,

a world that will pay us no living wage
for our grace and our disease,

a world existing only to remind us
we will never know what it means
to be useful.

But I tell you there is time enough
in death to be useful,

where they can sharpen our bones
and do with them what they will.

–William Taylor Jr.


Posted in A.D. Winans on March 6, 2009 by Scot

bride tosses racy garter
high like helium balloon
Orgy master sends invitation

veil covers radiant face
father walks at side
penguins step up pace

organ plays wedding march
bride in virgin white
merry-go-round with brass ring

best man holds ring
brides maid waits turn
blackbird circles the sky


a.d. winans

Without The Wild Side of Creation, The Fire Goes Flat…by Julie Buffaloe-Yoder

Posted in Julie Buffaloe-Yoder on March 4, 2009 by Scot

For Art Coelho
Mentor, friend
The title, his words

You taught me how
to poke it, stoke it
pour whiskey on it
keep it roaring hot.
It ain’t pretty, slick,
or academic; it learns
lessons from crickets,
coyotes howling
by bedrolls, hoboes,
coal trains in the night.
Pork and beans
around a ring
sticks ticking
hissing bark
nails shooting
popping hot blue
stories after dark.
A good student,
I will never let
the wild eyed girl
burn out.
I won’t let the bastards
take the flame, I won’t
let them piss it down
to embers.
Pistols in my lines,
thunder in my stomach,
thick brown gravy
on an old tin plate.
Sparks flying
from my lips,
I tip my hat
to the master,
pass the flask
to the next
one in line.
We’ll go down
flinging fire
through the grate.

THE LAST WORD…by Joie Cook (day 3)

Posted in Joie Cook on March 1, 2009 by Scot

What was it that we said at the end of our run?
Do you remember?
Were we wolves in the night howling at each other?
Were we running deer mating in an Appalachian forest?
Were we cats?  dogs?
Did we bark, meow?
What did we say?
I can’t remember our last words.
Were they final?
Like, OK, this is THE END.  GO AWAY NOW.
Was it something like that?
Or something we read?  Smelled?
Did we use words?
Was it something we said in a moment of duress?
Were we clothed or undressed?
Were we drinking?
Closed in by the fog
In some dank corner
Of the sky?
I can’t remember our last words.
And I’ll never stop wishing I could.

Joie Cook
December 8, 2008
San Francisco, CA