poem of the day 01.22.11

larry brown

i want to read larry brown

but i can’t find
the goddamned book
of his short stories
that i bought almost two years ago

i must’ve put it away drunk

because i can’t remember where it is

i’ve just checked
seven dusty bookshelves
coming up with nothing

but the ice melting in my scotch glass

maybe i let someone borrow it

that whore at the bar

maybe i never bought it
in the first place

i say that i’m going to buy
a lot of things

but the money just ends up
at the liquor store or in the grocery line

i know i bought this book though

i checked my account
on amazon.com

larry brown is listed under
my recent purchases

april 2008

still i have no clue what i did with it

the book is a ghost

i mean i’ve found han-shan
arthur nersesian
henry miller hidden under a stack
of old comic books
bukowski and Jeffers
kerouac and busson
anne sexton
and kathy acker
ginsberg
corso
and good old walt whitman

but no larry brown

it’s a shame

he was a tough bastard too

wrote his stories
when he wasn’t fighting fires

put the drinks back
and died of a heart attack
back in 04

a real southern word slinger
if you ask me

hell, i really could’ve used
old larry tonight

especially after the work day

but this is all my fault
not finding the book

i just set shit down anywhere
and move on to the next big thing

so absent-minded some days
i sit on my face
thinking that it’s my ass