[three brief pieces]

REMAKE (TURN, TURN, TURN)

They're gonna rewrite Qoheleth
they're gonna take out all that shit about
Gathering stones together &
Weeping &
Laughing &
Embracing.
It's gonna be all about
the Rotten Time.
They're rewriting Qoheleth and
they're gonna make a movie out of it.
It's official.

I read it in the trades.


...


HELPLESSNESSNESSNESS

Fire is helpless.
It may be important to remind yourself
of that from time to time
maybe mainl when the Bad Cells crawl
and assassinate their way
through the unlit corridors of Something you Love.
maybe when it burns.

Fire is helpless, cannot help itself
cannot cease or direct or argue
can never find the discipline, the courage
to make up
or change
its Simple Mind,
does what it does by foreign will.

Rock cannot defend itself against Water
or Whatever.
Sharks die if they stop swimming.
The Sun has no Tae Kwon Do skills.

Even Oxygen, immutable & powerful Oxygen, has no way
to decide where it goes
or what it does.


...


BAD SEX, WORSE JOKE

I asked him what sex with her was like
and he said something about
getting in a helicopter
and dropping a toothpick
into the Grand Canyon

at which point i meant
to say that i didn't know who
he was trying to insult there

but he had somewhere to be
and i guess it really wasn't
an important thing to address

because the he answered my question:

The Sex between them was Bad.


...


so these are all pretty old, and pretty short. thought it was time to post something again.

-andy

NPM.6 - The Question VIDEO

...
so my friend, the ever talented and enthusiastic Evan McNary, asked me to recite my poem "Cornields" (my "twinkie piece" as spoken-word genius and indie-multimedia art guru/mogul Vince Kadlubek playfully calls it) for a video recently.

Evan was in charge of the lighting and camera and sound and scenery AND he edited the whole thing, so while the words are mine, this result is just as much his. i'm damn proud to have been involved for my half. i really love this thing and hope to do more work of this kind with him in the future. FUN FACT: that's actually water in the beer can!

hope you like it. thanks.
-andy

NPM.5 - Skeletonpaste

i threw up the barium the first time
they said it would be "chalky"
it was way worse
blue-white deathvomit like
drinking skeletons ground into powder and watered with
weak piss or
somebody whose family's just been murdered
cried into the bucket for 13 years

all over
the hospital gown, the squeaky shiny scuffed-up tile floor
the clean metal and expensive plastic
i couldn't get it out of me fast enough
praying for anaphylaxis
then i just had to drink more
and lie back down

been losing weight
didn't tell anyone there were some days
where i just didn't eat
was blood in the toilet and seizing awful cramps
in my gut
my stomach
felt like a teakettle with nothing in it
sitting on a burner on high
no longer whistling
unshrieking
didn't mention
i hated everything, everyone, everyday
even when they asked if maybe
it was all in my head
it wasn't
it was in my gut
my stomach

where the barium sulfate went

i didn't throw up the second time
but i spent the next rest of my life
wishing i had

NPM.4 - The Only Babysitter Left

oh, i get it
as long as there's a miser sun standing sentry
we shouldn't let our question marks hang out
up on the roof, making all that noise
too scared of the crackdown
i get it
you're content to let the Flood raise your children
let these Earthquakes teach them what numbers do
while Forest Fires inform them of the relationship
between duty and consequence
i get it
there's a Sickness coming
and your kids are gonna have to cough and
bleed and vomit through it
just like every other sad fuck
let the Tornadoes run them in laps
burning off every birthday cake
i get it
make the check out to the End of Days
she's the only babysitter left on a Friday night.


...
so yeah. i straight-up dropped the ball on this National Poetry Month challenge.
gonna try and make up for it.
-andy

NPM.3 - Late Grandfathers, Not Gone

Choose Mom's laughing Buddha on a boat with a warlock's medallion
or Dad's rail-thin Grimace with fists
and a flask, but
Both loved to dance and
both lived in houses they'd rather been
forever running from because
they were Men, goddammit, and that's
what Men did.

The fat man and the skinny guy
sunburnt as fallow farmland
and beached beaches
and all the small sin swept into
a great big pile under
God's hateful, glaring eye
and then buried with family in some
Midwestern backyard
or scattered like fish food over
warm Mexican seawater.

Gone from sight, brushed to the far dark
corners or under the rug but
talked about often, usually with booze
Toasted often
we get toasted and toast them and
talk about them often.

Carl the Methodist.
Jack the Presbyterian or Catholic or What-Have-You
Two Major-League All-Time Drinkers
Two Faithful Terriers,
dead as fuck and
long in the ground / short in the water
by the time i started making memories.
The Mean Man a blur and the
Meaner i never met.

All the same, i know them
i know them well
i know them from night terrors and whirlwind
neverending benders and tasting
my own salty metal blood
and sailing and fishing and driving and fighting
and fucking and running through the corn and riding horses
and cutting a billion goddamn rugs into sample scraps
for happier couples.
I know them from Iowa and California
and Scotland and the Mississippi and Spirit Lake and Cortez.

I know them from every bullshit gauntlet
tossed at my feet that i
kicked dirt on instead of running from
because I'm a Man, Goddammit.


...
this one's kinda long, i guess. but i think it's the best thing i've written in months. maybe i'm finally getting used to writing while stone sober.
-andy

NPM.2 - Saturnalia Princeps

We used to trade places with them others yesterday
at least til we woke up the next mornin for work
Used to wear their crowns and call the shots and
roll em like dice in their own shit for a change
For laughs

See, the idea was that we'd fuck up the public works
and all our own complaints
And we kinda did
but the setup there is that
the first day anyone gets the sceptre in their hand
all they feel like doing is partying
So we did

We raided their liquor cabinets to
see what the top shelf tastes like
We rolled filthy in their pristine beds
We ate the meat we raised and
Butchered and
Cleaned and
Carved and
Cured for them and
We got all into their
Little Black Books and Little Black Dresses and
We forgot what it felt like after a few months.

Some dick actually had the balls to call this "Misrule."
The shoe don't fit the other foot.
We lived like Kings but it was just a joke
and most mornings we still can't hear ourselves laughing.

The crown musta gone right over our heads.


...
So I guess I inadvertently played a date-appropriate prank on y'all yesterday. Only one post. Whoops. This is the first piece written and posted via my phone. TECHNOLOGY!!!
-andy

NPM.1 - Fish Story

bone thugs
poets, fools
words are idiotic
fuck-ups are beautiful
i'm telling you, tonight i saw a guy get into a Hummer
like it was nothing
like he wasn't going to war
like he wasn't being ripped open and eaten alive
it was nothing
just a Vaudevillian relic
and the girls in the chorus line wear
their girdles and rape fantasies
like we've all gotta smile
sooner or later
and the funnymen wave bamboo canes under straw hats
in front of shoepolish masks
like here comes your fuckin' punchline, suckers.
The joke ain't on anybody
if the banana peel's in the trashcan
Bigfoot plays it straight
Nessie's the foil
but they're both tapdancing on the far end
of that bridge you mean to buy
just as soon as
your horn comes outta hock
your house gets refinanced
or Christ smiles on your student loans
all you got in your wallet
is neverending war and
reality television assholes handing out
voter receipts.
it's halfway to Resurrection
the darkest part of the forest
and there's nothing left for
the poison ivy and parasites
but snake oil
and your grandmother's blood.
Now who's the dummy, pal?


...
so it's National Poetry Month and seeing as such, i'm gonna make it my mission to write a new poem and post it here every day. for the entire month of April. today, however, i'm gonna inaugurate the thing with two new ones. this is the first.
-andy

No Such Startle

The garbage bags and the
coroner wind been talking
some bad plans there
some real harsh witnessing.
And the turf just lies there
like the day before
no such startle there.
There's a rake in the garage
and a fright worn garishly on
every shivering tree.
Some slippery words start
planning to slur out over a burial
without anything resembling
enthusiasm.
There's a gold band for every other
ring finger and a tag for every other
big toe and.
The autistic frost kicking the
dust up on every highway just
outside of town
keeps a real clean pistol in its glove box.


...
been mostly working on comedy lately, but here's a more recent piece that i actually like a lot.
-andy

Pharoahs Ain't Shit

the Pharoahs are shitting themselves now
shut down the networks and they can't call the aliens for help
the kids that built the Pyramids are listening to rock'n'roll
the kids threw up the honey beer and slipped into hoodies
stepped out onto asphalt to answer the Sphynx's riddle
with rocks
and fire
and bodies
the kids aren't bowing to the whip
the kids are fucking shit up
about to prove there's no such thing as immortality
the kids are ripping brains and guts out of the Great Corpse
hoping to stuff flowers and spices in their place
the kids are staying up all night, breaking curfew
about to bury a ruler
with no more ritual than clapping hands
and dancing feet


...
just a brief, far-away perspective on the ruckus in Egypt.
-andy

Train Poems

1.
The thing i hate about the train is that the train has to stop
sometimes
to let another train pass
and i tell you the other train is always longer than Satan's Pecker
i tell you that other fucker never seems to end
seems like it's just a big ring around the world
spinning because the earth is nervous and fucking with it
it's worse at night because you can't see it
you just hate it
unable to give it a dirty look

2.
the thing i love about the train is that the train doesn't leave
the ground
you can move around in the train
you can treat your legs like you appreciate them
and want them to come out of this okay
and if it's a full moon
you can follow that guy through the night
listening to The Mountain Goats
or Willie Nelson
or Miles Davis
and the morning will come rushing at you
like it's happy as a puppy to see you
it missed you and it's time to enjoy
each other's company.

3.
if it's not a full moon, though, all you have is black
and maybe some little red
or orange lights here and there
and they aren't enough to tide you over until the sun
shoves the day at you
so you should probably bring a flask
that's another thing i love about the train
you can drink just about anywhere
if you're cool about it
and aren't some kinda asshole
to the conductor

4.
they yell at you if you try to smoke
at a stop that ain't designated for it
if you ask them to curb the hostility
they pull out the scalpels
and even though you woke up
the night before just in time
to see that mine or factory or whatever it was
lit up like Dali's x-mas tree
like frozen fireflies
you suddenly feel like there's no magic in the world
none at all
it's all just ugly
but we lie to ourselves
you tell yourself it's beautiful
because otherwise you'd lay down on the tracks
or you'd smoke a cigarette anyway

5.
When the train pulls in
when it arrives, there's no long walk
no legions of uniforms wrinkling scowls
no crowds of the mob, restless and fitful
no painted zones on a curb or a wheel of belongings
no angry horns or voices of gods all "Don't Do That."
just a few strangers hugging
just a little building that gave up its grand assumptions
and smiled to be itself.
When it arrives, you arrive, and there's just the sky and the
"Hey. Welcome."


...
this is a small series about fighting vampires in the 13th century riding on trains.
-andy

Those Songs

That Golden Birds song came on the ipod
the one that was always about her
and that's what twisted off the bottlecaps
that's what said "leave the shot glasses on the shelf,
let's kiss a groove. let's swig.
let's hear that splash of amber slap back against the bottom."
that's what got me going
and before i knew it, the fucker hit me
with that Mountain Goats song
the one that was never about anybody
but me
and the guy who ain't around anymore
and that's what turned the key in the car
that's what opened the garage door
that's what put me on the freeway
and in the car was just
that Weakerthans album
the one about my entire goddamn life
hesitant start to likely finish
and that's what saved my life.

and this?
this one ain't about anything
except maybe some music that
i wish i'd heard when i was much younger
before the whiskey
before the pictures of people who would leave
paraded through computer screens
back before the asshole boogeymen got driver's licenses
and checking accounts
and Christian names.
this one ain't about shit
but those songs
i just wanna hear those songs again and forever


...
should be painfully obvious what this one's about.
-andy