For Jerry: Part Viking


She Is


The No Man Man


(For Justin)


The No Man Man finds the table
that has been waiting, patiently
alongside a chair, waiting
(not so patiently)
like an old ball and chain
“Where have you been all night?”
The chair seems to ask, arm on hip
The No Man Man slumps apologetically
as his ass kisses her on the lips

The No Man Man’s unexceptional shoes tap
on the obnoxious vomited casino carpet
like thirty-something Gene Kelley
dancing with open mouthed colors
Van Gogh screams
lines that zig zag and accent
like vertigo
like nausea
like some else’s glasses
Oranges and magentas constantly collide
with a racket of mouths
that twist and talk in shapes of seashells

The No Man Man sips his foggy bourbon
that swishes and sways on his tongue
A tongue that battles and bucks
the rough seas of burning caramel
The weight of Detroit
underneath his fingernails
The dealer deals, eyes twinkle,
a young pageant contestant whose name
will never be called

The No Man Man plays his cards
Bouquets of royalty conquering the damned;
Playing the players who are playing
with playful hands to lips
Exoskeleton, slimy, bedridden moss
on the corners of their eyeballs,
groggy like an old pirate ship
The No Man Man’s bald head;
A top mirror hat reflects
how the others are losing

The No Man Man
before long, but not too soon,
cleans the table from all
those heavy pesky chips
dumps his estranged wife,
the chair, nods to the table and
leaves without the others knowing.


(a poem brought to you by “The Penny Pibbets Show” Kickstarter Campaign)

Carl’s Crusade or The Almanac to Absolute Harmony

(For Carl)


Slowly slurping
Tai Chi
like a frosty
cup of ale
in August,

“I was
but the learner,
now I
am the master.”

You must,
mother of yin
and yang, live
like a lark

“this is not the life
you’re looking for”

Let’s travel
Let’s beer
Let’s eat the purple
filling mountains
of bellies
and bellies of

Let’s touch the moon
with our tart tongues
that tickle and tingle
when we try
other languages
On for size

baggy bottoms
of Barcelona talk
that fit our minds
loose like macrame

Fingers fondle
edges of rock-ribbed
buildings, encrusted
like toast

Grey on the sides
eyes in the windows;
Sad when the drapes
are closed

Let’s let the goblin
loose, nose hooked
like a question mark
guiding that gross
adventure of crushed
peonies and mold ridden walks

You’re not lost.
You just
haven’t found it




(for Jerry), 2015

We lost him
(only for awhile)
The space
where he
once was:
a faint
in the
Moldy mice
where he wandered off
as wonderful things
tend to do

Misplaced maybe:

a recipe of ancient grains
that feed mouths
of millions in a village

a daunting tune on the tongue
that can’t escape
the prison of teeth its in

perfumed jewelry
on the nightstand
of a woman fluttering butterfly eyes

easily lost,
this man
went walking
(only for awhile)
and took the route
of the clouds instead

His blue song voice:
though, library quiet,
held wars,
halted traffic,
clenching cars
with it
to demonstrate
it’s worth

We’re sad he left
(for awhile)
for the ground he ground
around us
We’re happy he left
(for awhile)
for the ground he ground
around us

Distracted by the wind
that fed us his history
Our eyes squinted,
to look
at the place
where he
once was

he sat:
polite and early
for us.

Stay Awake, Sam

Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake.

I could hear giggles from patrons walking over me and entering my friend’s store where she sells crystals to people looking for themselves. Oh boy. I let another one go. A gangly old woman with Birkenstocks and a long flowery skirt steps over me. I squint one eye open in time to see her pale turkey legs covered sporadically with fur and spider veins that dance together. She smells like spicy grass and cumin.

I can’t help sleeping on the job. The long perfect sun nesting right on top of my head like a cotton pillow guiding me down to the warm concrete. The music of feet and human mumbling in my ears. My body mass is not meant to be carried. It’s more like a glorious statue for friends to walk by and revel in. To point and take pictures.

Wake up you idiot!

It’s my job to guard this store.They named me Sam, even though I didn’t have a say in it. I would’ve liked something a little more interesting like Rasputin or Leonardo. Something with a history. Something with pizzaz.

I can smell meat from far away and my stomach growls. I let out a thick sigh. Probably not awhile till my friend gives me anything. I can always do a round to check the floors in the store but that usually leads to nothing. Some dust or a piece of string. There was that time a little friend with stupid bows in her dirty hair and a goofy dress dropped that ice cream cone on the floor. A glorious gift. Even with all that racket that spewed from her, it was still such a orgasmic experience. It was more beautiful than any painting I’ve slept under.

I startle myself awake. I’ve been snoring. The light dances and plays in front of my eyes and I yawn magnificently, just like a lion.



He was the loneliest man in the room. He liked it that way, no fuss.
He never knew what to say when people talked to him so he mostly sat, out of the way, with the secrets of the world kept only for himself.


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