Stories, Poems and Other Stuff...

Monday, April 29, 2013

Poetry Reading

First poetry reading
in a couple of decades.
I laughed.
I cried.
I sat in awe.

That night I learned:

Georgia Peaches

Kansans punch
two year olds,
in the face,
for crying.

During intermission
while smoking a cigar,
playing cool and aloof (who am I kidding?)
I listened to conversations.
One common thread,
among poets who
stay in the game is:
poetry kills the poet-
but what a way to go.

While waiting for the crapper
I was let in on a little known
(to men)
about women’s public restroom
whatever you do,
I mean never,
talk on your cell phone
while on the can.

--You will be busted out
by one of your sisters
with explosive bowl syndrome—

I learned the significance
of PBR in a can, also
that same PBR
on an empty stomach
is money well spent.

Most importantly,
I remembered that words are best shared
with other people. 

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