we have a black cat asleep on our kitchen table, and we’re grateful. he disappeared for three days, worried the heck out of us – probably to make us miss him so we’d serve him better when he returned.
lady’s trimming my ear hair in a vain vague attempt to make me appear human. have a feeling i’m going to be one of those old men with massive dark ear and nostril hair. may as well make it a fashion statement. i’ll grow both long, then braid each ear’s hair to its closest nostril in a curving free form sideburn sort of way. mine nose mucous for hair gel. the braided loops would eventually grow so long i could put my arms through them like a pair of suspenders and hold myself upright.
this will be my closing poem when lady k has her city poetry reading at the Poetry Cafe aug 17 in Covent Garden (John Clarke, Sue Johns, Patrick Cunnane, The Worm, Lady K, Smith reading followed by open mic). the one time i read this in public, it rather livened up the evening.
You know what time it is?
It’s pumpkin time.
No, not pumpin time
Pumpkin time
cuz at midnight
everything turns into
a pumpkin
and the mice run away
Now midnight you also might
be pumpin pie,
depends on what yer doin
at the time
Somethin
you might be fuckin
might turn into a pumpkin
So you fuckin pumpin
pumpkin pie
watched Michael Moore’s “Sicko” last night. eye opening-est film i’ve ever seen. brings tears to the eyes, shame to the heart. sad to be american oftimes.
