magic trick

i always laugh when people try to sell me drugs on the street
powder, pills
need some rock?
as if i don't have enough problems already
there's a juggler out there
i stole his ball
he stole my pride
not a fair trade at all
he winked as he rode away
knowing i couldn't catch up
but if i did...

the music was still ringing in my ears
pulsating
throbbing
all the way down hennepin avenue
the dogs barked
and the police yelled racist remarks over the megaphone
but the juggler
he was out of sight
on to the next carnival where he could perform tricks
slight of hand
who is he fooling?
not me
i got his ball
let's see him put on a show now

people littered the streets
waiting for the rain to wash them into the sewers
a large man smoking a cigar stood outside the strip club
making sure no one snuck in
there's nothing in there you can't find on the street
i want to set up on the corner
perform my own magic show
juggling a single ball
people would stand in amazement
and the juggler
he would watch as people cheered for me
jealousy would enrage him
i would call him up for my finale
and take the ball and hit him over the head with it
as he lay there bleeding i would take a bow
then maybe we'd be even
...maybe
lucky for him he performed his disappearing act
lost in the city
nowhere to be found
not in the bottom of my glass of beer
i checked there five or six times

still the music radiates
like a sirens call
i want to give in
untie me so i can be free
free to sink my ship where i may
free to leave it all behind
free to live in obscurity
...free to be

untitled

i crossed the bridge over the river on my way to a dive bar
the crowd was thin and the music loud
deafening
the bartender was an old man,
a shell of what he used to be
evolution was not kind to him
neither were the two packs of cigarettes a day
the smoke in the bar lingered
like an evening fog
unflinching
the alcohol burned going down
a young couple in the corner looked out of place
they faced each other when they talked
and she wore his hat while he played pool
it was almost as if they enjoyed being around each other
i stared at my drink through the haze
the flashing neon signs colored the room
first red
then blue
patriotic indeed
i scribbled some nonsense on the back of a coaster and then threw it out
i stumbled into the parking lot
but the smoke had already spread out there
i lit a cigarette and leaned against the light post almost as if i was the only thing keeping it from falling
we both needed support
i walked down to the lake
i watched as the sun set upon itself
creating a line of fire piercing the water
a single stone is all it took to shatter the sky
the sun crumbled into a million pieces
then disappeared
i went back to the bar the get a 6-pack to bring home
but it was closed
the smoke outside was suffocating
it wasn't until i turned down the road to head home
that i realized the smoke wasn't from the bar
i saw the remnants of the bridge as it collapsed and tumbled smoldering into the water
i lit another cigarette and watched the world end

"no more"

I used to go to school
I took classes in writing-even some in poetry
But one day I screamed "no more"
I couldn't sit in that class with a broken clock for one more second
Surrounded by people all to willing to study Pound & Elliot to no end
Three sessions on a two line poem...
I have my limits.
I hope Pound is happy knowing that people still study his work like that
when there are writers who say what they mean
and are able to be more direct about it than he was willing to be.
Educated poetry for the educated man is a hell of a corner to write yourself into -Pound!

I used to write for a newspaper
I used to walk around with a pen, a notebook and even a funny hat
But one day I threw my hat out my window
Everyone looked for something that wasn't there
Watergate at every board meeting, and corruption in every town hall
It was sad-and funny-and pathetic the way they believed the world was anything but boring and lonely.
Nobody likes to be bothered with reality anymore.

Now I work at a school with children
they don't listen to me
I teach them card games and we play for candy
We do homework and draw pictures before they get picked up by their parents
Sometimes I hide in the corner and read
I imagine all the things I thought I'd be doing in life by now
All the places I'd see and people I'd meet
I want to throw my book down and watch the building block tower crumble to pieces,
leave, and never look back
But they are just kids
They are ignorant and don't know much
They don't know enough to know any better

Nobody asked for this

Nobody asked for this
Nobody simply wished to be born,
and was obliged
It was given to us
...forced onto us

-Forced onto the janitor who spends his nights cleaning up after people
that are too stuck up to do it themselves
-Forced onto the farmer who can't feed his family
because engineered food is more cost efficient
-Forced onto the homeless man who spends his nights on the street
singing songs for a nickel or a smoke

Nobody asked to be...
Yet by some strange happenstance we were,
are,
and continue to be

When death unavoidably touches us
we mourn
Children cry
Holy men pray,
but how can they be sad?
How can they mourn the loss of a life that no one ever asked for in the first place?