Archive for August, 2010


Posted in best of GJK, poems 2004 with tags , , , , , , , on August 31, 2010 by GJK


rippled bands

of fiery orange

and pink-tinged stripes

of lush lavender

streak the sky

as the golden eye of day

slips down into dim regions

of dusk.

the first stars

pierce the curtain of nightfall

as three crows glide

in pursuit of the banished sun,

their dark forms dwindling

as night deepens,

vanishing into

an obsidian



— —



— —


write like a ____

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2010 with tags , , , , , , on August 30, 2010 by GJK


go baby go

says my bro

that muthafucka

wuz right

when years ago he said

if you wanna be a writer

just be a writer

and what he meant wuz

stop yer bitching

and write

write like yr life depends on it

and it duz…

it really does.



in the flesh

in the mind

in the spirit

it is one

and me is poet

there’s no way around it.

god knows i have tried

to be other things

but writer is

the only true me

once when i told a____ that

i got a day job

she said

why did you

give up?

(cuz i needed money)

but i knew what she meant

and what she meant was

don’t ever put your pen down

don’t ever hang it up

pack it in

roll over and die

don’t you ever leave me

all alone out here in the wasteland

that’s what she meant

and now

here i am

with her on my index finger

my best woman-friend

who isn’t my wife

my best encourager

(other than Yello)

my one-of-four great emboldeners

it’s all about the word

the flow




and me

and Maus,

the first one to truly

love me


set me


now he’s in Colorady

and Yello is here,

in the next room,

just being she

and me here, typing,

being me.



GJK (29 August 2010)




no strangers

Posted in best of GJK, poems 2010 with tags , , , , , , , on August 27, 2010 by GJK

(typed spontaneously
 as i listen to
 Leonard Cohen)
***** *****
there are no strangers here,
in this manger of sorts, this home
of ours, this dwelling, us,
husband and wife and
two precious feline creatures.
the thin one
and the zen one,
the jittery cat
and the serene cat,
the hyper-minded man
and the wise, awakened woman
we are family here and now
and no one sits on yello’s chair
without first

the tea is ready
the table is set
the bread is fresh
the corn and green beans
are yours for the taking
there is plenty more
where that came from.
look around, enjoy the yard
enjoy the patio table
enjoy the candlelight
the moonlight
the owl-hoot
the dog-howl
the engines grinding
the footfalls
of welcomed guests

there are no strangers here.

2:16 a.m. CDT

“the cock”

Posted in song lyrics with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 27, 2010 by GJK

“the cock”

[song lyrics]


i measure time in cigarettes
and distance in dollars.
i sober rhyme in deference
to old friends with blue collars.


i keep the beat within reach
and the snare is set to stun.
all i lack is the good sense
to say enough is enough.


just one more grab
at the cock
of rock glory.
one more mad dash
thru the throng
of mass whoredom.



i measure lust in barrelsful
that seldom turn out fun.
when the moon gives way to the sun
it is me, i’m the one, singing


just one more grab
at the cock
of rock glory.
one more mad dash
thru the throng
of mass whoredom.


just one more grab
at the cock
of rock glory.
one more badass
knock’em dead


[lyrics written for a band i was in,

 known as

 The Corduroy Cabaret]

line by line

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2009 with tags , , , on August 24, 2010 by GJK

my only courageous act

is now

to put pen to paper

to write

this is trite

and easily dismissed

by many and by myself

but the truth is

it’s been over a year

since i’ve allowed myself

to bleed.

i’m drinking

watching a PBS program

about volunteers that greet


a program

about the goddamned wars

about the wretched and beautiful ones

who, for whatever reason

have given themselves over

to the choice

to become the walking dead

so i have no reason

or excuse for having

avoided my self

and this horrid


for so long.

on the screen

is some old geezer

giving his waning days

and nights

to women and men who

insist upon calling him


but all he wants to do

is share some smokes and bullshit

over coffee in a snowstorm

in the shadow

of some podunk airport


i feel selfish and small

to feel so joyous and grand

for this effort,

this pittance of craft.

this tiny poesy

is mean

and crude

and, by outer observance,



– but i must remain proud

  in this moment

  regaining my self

  line by line.






thank you mr. oldham

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2010 with tags , , , , , , , , on August 19, 2010 by GJK

so this guy walked into my house 

with this woman and he sort of

hugged her then fell on top

of her on my couch

and started to

dry hump her

he was a friend of mine,

you see, and she

i had just met

for the first time

and we,

i mean he and i,

had been drinking

good old domestic beer

and she a bottle of wine

out in the yard,

feasting on hot dogs

popcorn and whatnot

and when it was near dark

we all went inside.

i walked into my own house

and saw this man

on top of this woman

they were laughing

i was laughing

there was rageful music

blasting from the speakers

then, as they were play-hump-wrestling

something happened and she said

oww yer hurting me.

the laughter stopped

and he said he was sorry

and i turned the music down

a little

and quickly


settled down.

someone picked out

less angry music

and it was back

to all grins

all around.

this friend of mine

is one of the kindest

and most thoughtful souls

i have ever met,

and so full of joy


and empathetic

to boot.

this just goes to show you

how even a pacifistic


can get carried away

once in a while,

if the time and place

is right,

and if the hurting

really was accidental,

which it was.

and, after all,

i had said to both of them

my house

is your house.





hover, 2006

Posted in best of GJK, for Blue Bike reading, poems 2006 with tags , , , , on August 17, 2010 by GJK

60mph northbound into town

both palms damp on the wheel

a fast pearl jam song churns

spills thick and loud

from four speakers

bounces from pane to pane

captured within glass

sound crashes in my thirsty ears

pierces deep into my guts

incense smoke drifts up

from the dashboard

(a thin stick wedged

in the panel below the a.c.

drops ash to the carpet)

and my foot presses down

with urgency matching the song

surging now to 70mph

then i hover motionless

above the highway

the car caught in freeze-frame

as everything else slides by.

the road beneath moves as water

and the fields float as clouds

past my eyes that stare blankly ahead

disbelieving and entranced.

the world falls away

and i am rising

out of my self

lifted without form into the sky

expanding high above the earth

and flowing with impossible speed

i burn toward the sun.