Tuesday, June 26, 2012

poem of the day 06.26.12

idiots abroad

you hear that accent behind you
and it reduces you to nothing

sitting in a small café
trying to shove down lunch
with all of that vatican wealth
gleaming gold in the distance

you hear that accent

dull and american
slow and purposeful

like john wayne hungry
for a ham and cheese sandwich

and it just lowers you into the dirt

in fact, none of them are even trying
to speak the language
or even read what’s on the menu

they just demand and demand again

talking louder as if it will make a difference
in the translation

but this has been par for the course

idiots abroad in the eternal city
wearing their baseball hats
and football team t-shirts

taking the piss out of the italians
with their boorishness

photographing everything in sight
but taking in nothing

chanting usa! usa! when the mood hits them

packs of these well-heeled yanks
roaming around with that clueless american gaze
their ignorance buffered by
single file tour groups at the pantheon
and a sense of global entitlement

pulling along their angry kids

the trust fund daughters on high school vacation
complaining about not being at the mall

their young asses getting fat on gelato

the thick-necked sons laughing
at the penises on priceless sculptures

trying to pick up italian girls
with nothing but that foolish and taxing
american swagger

jerking each other off in hot hotel rooms
with not enough air conditioning

you hear that bland, self-righteous accent behind you
and it reduces you to rubble

takes you out piece by piece

because you are a part of it too
this red white and blue abomination

although you try to hide your shame beneath
the veneer of thoughtfulness and quiet

of polite discussion
and a bit of banter over the house wine

you are an idiot just as well
through no fault of your own

and that waiter smiling nervously at you
as he cautiously pours out the red
into two crystal glasses

chalices that catch the last orange glow of the sun

well, he was just dressed down by a tableful
of your countrymen
dressed in bright old navy t-shirts
and grand canyon hats

for the cardinal sin
of not having decaf coffee on the menu

and now he’s just waiting on you
for whatever it is that’ll make you strike.


Monday, June 25, 2012

In the Year of Everything Dying

Hello All

Sorry I haven't posted in a bit...been out of the country.
Anyway, I have a small online Chapbook out via Camel Saloon's
Books on Blogs series.  The titles is In the Year of Everything Dying
and you can view it here.


Wednesday, June 6, 2012

poem of the day 06.06.12


i’m crying
and the wine bottles
are stacked on the floor
like bowling pins
you are nowhere
to be