the LA river

Looking at the LA river

now, smelling it

more than I can see it.

There’s a pigeon

down there, drinking

down there, bathing itself

in whiskey and piss—

probably blood even.

Who knows really?

It could be the purest water

in the world, but I guess

only a choice few

will get the opportunity.

While the rest of us

get coffee, Dasani

and whatever else

man feeds the birds.

L.A. River

Whiskey Shakes (song for Josh)

Come on my friend.

It’s time to go.

Where we’re going.

We don’t need roads.

Bring two cups of tea.

Bring your rabbit too.

I’ve got the whiskey shakes.

I think a quart will do.

I hear the grass is green.

Leave your blues at home.

On the other side.

Of this rabbit hole.

I’ve got the whiskey shakes.

I’m paranoid as hell.

You know I don’t take pills.

But this time oh well.

Just the right amount

Just the right

amount of whiskey

can make a poor man rich

and a rich man poor

it all just depends on

who’s asking for more.

Cleanse

You should cleanse, she said.

Pouring my whiskey

neat

Well that’s what I’m doing, I told her.

Giving me a knowing glance

that one’s on me, she said.

And this one, I told her

is on them,

pointing at our reflection behind the bar.

She thought that was funny.

Laughing together

was enough.

honest fiction

Fill me with whiskey,

I’ll spill some truth.

Fill me with time and no one,

and I have filled pages with reason.

Reason enough to explain the lies

I tried to convince myself true.

My most honest fiction, in truth

is all that I can do.

be here now

I look at his wrist
it reads:

be. here. now.

and for a second dwell,
what a way to be.

Laughing loudly over stranger conversation, we shoot whiskey then wash them down with pickle juice.

Later I gaze at my face in the mirror
it reads:

be. here. now.

but I do not dwell.
Finally, I am here.