POEMS & SHORTS

November 21, 2009

ARGUING WITH MY WIFE! Yes, it is Saturday and we spend the day together as she works her sweet little ass off all wee, bringing home the bacon while I play scenes out of the ‘Jackson Pollock’ movie as according to: WRITING? Is that what I really do? I wonder…but I do get pained deep and desperate, in the Artist’s way much rthe same as Ed Harris did in ‘Pollack’. But…fuck me, Jackson Pollack was a genius …and so what if insane alcoholic…painter. He produced great works of art in between his periods of dark black uselessness. He pondered in Hades, waiting on the brink of…

Fuck. I am searching for the description of him in the same manner. And I don’t have it. So instead of staring at the computer keys in morbid desperation, I am forcing myself her to continue, to just splash the pint on the canvas with out a care…which I am told, Pollack never did. I was told he waited until…anyway, enough of me and Pollack. I’m here waiting for my wife to get out of the shower and just argued about not eating any yogurt and granola because we are going to her restaurant for brunch…but I’m fucking hungry and she isn’t even in the shower yet. And she did eat yogurt and granola already. So I am trying to abide by my own rules, my own rules of food…my own rules of fool, I should say as I am wanting her to abide by them too and not eat before we go out…TO EAT. I mean Jesus fuck (feel like a sinner putting those words together…and Jesus bows his head in forgiveness although, he…I mean the Jesus in my own mind, would prefer I choose a different path, a different path of words, a different path of life. Love me Jesus, who and wherever whenst you come forth hither and to and fro. Stupid. Stupid words I am writing this morning while I wait for my wife to wash. I’m just hungry and hungry makes angry and angry makes stupid. Gonna run to the kitchen for a dried organic mango slice.

Now that I puked all that out, I would like to describe the morning walk we had up Red Rock canyon earlier in the crisp, clear late November morning. Bright bold happy sun and the sky splashed with wisps of soft white and grey, on the immense blue as if from a painter’s brush. Note: previous sentence was worked on. Work. This word keeps coming up. Ha. Ha. Ha. HA! Yes, in big letters it deserves…that joke to be told, right on myself. Nu? No? Neh? Wife is out of the shower now. My turn. And then we can eat.