south philly tony

over on
slushy oregon ave
stuck in
the philthydelphia(pa)
february freeze
these south philly
dago's
run the rundown
corner
checkcash cash
my itsty bitsy
checks
for
a nominal
fee

sylvestor styllone
greasy 'do'
philadelphia cheese steak
pot belly
macho men
cept for
tony tony
the scrawny one
past middle age
happy go-lucky he
suddenly
appears from
the back room
waves a 'hi' hand
whenever
i arrive
he's fascinated with
my sense
of
humor

i am sick of this
bitter
winter weather
already...how 'bout it?
i mention through
the scratchy plexi
glass window as
i slide the
2 - $10.00 checks
under the small
opening at
the bottom

it's gonna be
in the 50's this
weekend tony perks
up

...o good
well maybe
i'll wheel over
to south street
get a few shots of
back alleys i like
taking pictures of
alleyways
abandoned or
otherwise sometimes
i see the poor homeless
sifting through
dumpsters
lookin' for the day's
dinner but
one time i missed
the shot (no pun)
of the old man
walking along
jackin' off
spewin' cummm out
the front of his
long tattered trench
coat...
         ....dammit

tony laffs turns
sideways
flexing bi's tri's
whatever
like a fetal
muscle man mr
world
in
dire need of
weight training
vitamins
dumb bells cocks
his head to
the leakstained
ceiling

how bout
you take a picture of
this...? tony shows
off

onlyifyoupullyourpantsdown
i said without delay

ooooooooooo...ooooooo00oooooooooahhhhhoooooooo....
one long stretch ooooze st(r)eamed from tony’s mouth

ooo well think
about it
i'll be back
monday
with my
camera...
wink wink i
went

 

sharpshooter

this man has guns
aims like
the direct
spit
of
the outlaw
josey
wales

i am
target
practice
everytime
he looks at me
eye to eye
or opens his mouth
he shoots
me
down

 

alfred hitchcock flashback

the live-in landlord and
lady like
birds
they like to feed
winter
birds

fine...but

mosttimes
after
dark
i am
at the Kat
the Taj Mahal lobby
bar
with mark or
doug
(or once in a loverly blue moon michelle) or

who-ever...and

if i'm home
(sweet home)
during the night
i edit
the monthly hold zine
else
print books journals pamphlets biz cards
type stupid poems or
read stupid poems
by new submittors -
rather well while
buzzed on bong
hits

whatever...the point is

mosttimes
5:00 a.m. or
so
i crawl into
the sack
soft golden stars yellow moon
planets planted
against the thick
navy blue
comfy comfortor
already mussed up
by my 3 sleepy
terriers the 3
terriers
rearrange themselves
between
my spread legs as
i fall off fast

until...the break of dawn

then
this blast
of bird conversation
erupts out the front
window
tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet
tweet tweet tweet tweettweettweet
tweetleetweet
like the operas of
Mozart Verdi Strass Puccini
except
in stereophonic
chirps

give me a a scarecrow...a break...5:57a.m

i get up open
the window
abruptly
look out
holler TWEET THIS dammit
the dogs bark
zillions of bird wings
flutter
banging shutterthunder
past
my blinkin stutterin'
can't-keep-my-bloodshot-eyes-open eyes
and
on the front lawn
there are piles
of wild bird seed
the owners
laid out -
on the way
to work

ok...so now...

i am
inside hitchcock's concert
bass bose surround
sound sucked
inside a live
nightmare

make that...the blast of dawn

cause there is no rest
until
i clean up
this bird
shit