May Gumbytron heap blessings on you and yours

tuesday, 02.07.20..12

bragadocio a dosie doh and here we go.  spent a week partying my ass off and i’m exhausted…  i’m running on fumes.  Saturday night, i found out while watching CNN and the Nevada Caucus results that i was married to the new female commentator in a parallel universe.  more of the TV saying one thing and my mind hearing something completely different.

only sold 3 copies of my new book, “Space Christals” and i’m not sure how to proceed in promoting it.  i’m thinking of leaving some copies lying around in coffee shops and maybe even outside the library here in town.  don’t know what good it will do.  everybody seems to be so busy smartphoning that no one has time to try to figure out my poetry.

i’m quitting the Space Program
i’m not even in the Space Program
you can tell by the way i like to breathe atmosphere
and we all go home with smiles on our faces

what’s really tragic is that you’re reading this
maybe nobody is reading this
maybe i’m not writing this
maybe i’m just imagining i’m writing this

my head is a big ball of mush right now

wait a  minute…  now i remember!  i’m supposed to be engaging the reader!  but actually i have no time for that… there’s nonsense to discuss, one thing that there seems to be a steady supply of.

speaking of nonsense, this is an election year and i’ve been watching a lot of CNN…  i think i’m addicted.  the debates are better than any reality shows out there for entertainment.  i’m glad there are still 4 candidates.  can’t wait for the next shoe to drop.  the top two spend more time explaining themselves than talking about the issues.  i probably won’t even vote… i’ve moved 3 times in 7 months…  once across the country.   yeah, so i probably won’t vote.  i’d vote Green anyway so probably not gonna do them much good this year.

now i’ll close with a poem from my new book:

Zion

Riding the main road into Zion,
Daydreaming
Of the Pope
Taking off his miter
And jacking off to a picture
Of Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas
Doing it on a divan,

Riding,
Sweat dripping from my mustache,
It tastes like your sex

And I’m thinking of you,
Far away in Zion,
Lying in bed
With a dyke named Hal
Eating Malomars and smoking Pall Malls,
Malomar crumbs on your saggy, brown belly.

I’ll be in Zion in 12 and a half hours
If I push the Dodge the rest of the ride
And don’t get stopped for speeding.

Can I have coffee with you in the morning?
Will you let me tell you dirty stories
While I make you scream?

Tell Hal to put your key under the mat
When she leaves.

I have a trunk full of Malomars.