TASTING THE SUN

can't wait for the sun
i hear it's coming.
was here a couple of days ago
but disappeared
like it never happened.
i wish it was here today
so badly,
i can taste it.
imagine that,
tasting the sun.
sounds like something
some new-ager would
spiel off.
i'm no new-ager.
i can prove it.
3/4/96 sacto

WE LOVE ROCKING CHAIRS

we were traipsing
around the dumpsite,
her and i
it was fun.
we brought our cameras
to take photos.
she went over to the puddles
while i checked out
the water-soaked electronics.
we happily snapped away
until her camera battery
died.
my battery was fine but
this was a team thing,
her and me
so i stopped too.
ended up buying
an old rocking chair for $10.
we love rocking chairs.
we walked back to the car,
through hills of tires, shelves,
toys and bicycles
and i shot her while
she sat in the chair
in the middle of the road.
3/4/96 sacto

BLESS ME? NO, BLESS YOU!

about 2 minutes ago,
i sneezed here
and a woman,
someone's mom
said "bless you".
i don't know why
but that always
catches me off-guard.
have i become so
jaded and cynical about life,
that i don't trust people
when they say
things like that to me?
the answer to tht one
sucks.
21 April 1996/Sacto.

USUALLY

there is no bliss
and very little joy
in that person's life.
how do i know?
well
maybe i don't.
it just appears
that way
and i'm usually
pretty good at
calling that kind of thing.
21 April 1996/Sacto.

CATS, FUCKING

i woke up around
3 in the afternoon.
actually,
she woke me up when
she woke up.
we chatted a little, then
laughed at and played with
our 3 cats,
then she suggested
that we
go brush our teeth,
get back into bed and
fuck.
21 April 1996/Sacto.

BTC

i complain alot
more so then
ever before.
i hear myself
bitching about
things i can and
cannot change.
i scream at
stupid drivers,
i yell at
shit on tv,
i whine about
the weather,
i sit around
and complain
while i do
nothing about it.
it seems that
i was
born to complain.
i do it
well
and often.
why,
i'm the wholesale
and half-assed
complain king.
21 April 1996/Sacto.

MOCHAJAVAESPRESSOFUCKYOU

i just heard her say
"this is disgusting!",
talking about a cup of
one of those silly new
flavored, iced coffee drinks
this place is known to serve
from time to time.
hell, i never drink those things
i don't need my coffee
NOT tasting like, well, you know,
coffee.
23 July 1996/ Galleria

IN THE BOOK

i pleaded to a group of people
to stop the shit they were causing
and listen to some reasoning
for a little while.
some people,
stripped of their
part-time born-again christian
protective shield,
smacked at me and
called me the dirtiest names
in the book,
a book i've never seen before.
some older, muscular guy,
in jeans and lumberjack shirt,
came towards me
like he was going to do
some pretty serious damage.
luckily,
a tv cameraman shooting the 2 of us
kept him from doing so.
this was one of the scariest days
of my life.
24 July 1996/galleria, sacto.

OPEN MIC tales #1

i sat in the a corner of the cafe
and watched as the 6th performer
did his thing with his quivery voice
and new and shiny acoustic guitar.
we started at 8:30 and after 5 performers.
it was still only, a little after 10.
tonight was gonna be a long one,
that much, i could tell.
during the 6th performers performance,
various people walked in and did
various things.
some ordered beer.
some sipped coffee and read.
some took small and bashful steps
towards the restroom.
some talked with others and
occasionally,
bothered to sit down and
listen to the the 6th performer
as he sang a song about the Olympics
and a cat he had named Clack.
24 July 1996/ galleria, sacto.

WHO NOTICES

the sounds of gnawing
or whatever it is,
barrels down this
big, barn-like corridor.
it almost sounds like
some woman screaming
or an animal
being mangled in some way
but i believe it's
a coffee grinder
grinding away.
i seem to be the only one
who notices.
25 July 1996/ sacto

Timo

Timo was this weird guy who liked to hang around poets and pretend to be one. Most of the poets ignored him because he was so damned annoying. He'd show up early to readings around town and ask silly questions.

"Why is poetry important?"

"Who's your biggest non-poet influence?"

or

"Should poets be paid for reading?"

Most everybody just laughed or shook him off but there was this one girl, Claire who always seemed "up for the task" of dealing with Timo. One night, she got so annoyed my his pesky inquiries, she threw hot coffee at him. At first, he seemed shocked, then peeved, then he forgot all about it. Wise move, the rest of us figured, Claire seemed pretty tough.

Timo made his presence felt on the local poetry for a year before disappear- ing. After a couple of weeks, Frisco Steve, one of the big daddies of poetry in town (he edited and published a lit mag called 'Catsoup Kitchen') asked Claire if she'd seen Timo around. She hadn't. No one else had either. A few readings came and went and at each of them, at least once, you'd hear someone mention Timo.

Then one day, word got around that Timo was shot, in the back of the head, by a guy on a bike in his neighborhood. We had all heard about the shooting but never put it together, that this Timothy so-and-so, who was shot and killed on his own street, was our very own and unwanted Timo.

Poets all began talking about how close to Timo they were and how much they missed him. All of a sudden, the world was filled with Timo fans and friends and a day wouldn't go by without hearing his name and his sad story.

Claire and Frisco Steve decided to put their heads together and organize an 'Open Reading For Timo' at a local cafe. They invited all the hotshot poets, some musicians and artists and made flyers for the special event. Another poet, Kirby Nunn wrote a poem for Timo. Then Claire did. 5 or 6 other poets did as well and the lovefest for Timo continued.

The day of the tribute for Timo rolled around and from the very start, sobs were heard and stories were shared. Someone had actually taken a still from some video footage of Timo sitting at a cafe table, enlarged it and made it into a backdrop behind the area where the poets read. It was quite moving and no one seemed to recall a single bad thing to say about the previously despised Timo. He was their new hero, almost a martyr for these artistic dreamers and he would have probably gotten quite a kick out of it all.



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