There is a place on a map called Euless Texas, rules include naming your truck after a long dead lady country star, who went to jail when she said she robbed that liquor store out on 183rd, but sang Aretha Franklin like a songbook, after five straight-up Red Eagles, looked at herself in the mirror, [...]
Also tagged aretha franklin, country, poetry, red eagle, texasWickedly wet liver
Soaked for lack of living
Soaked for a sotted giver
Weighs a ton & ways onward
The special things that are gone toward
And the death of the run-up to The Suffocate
Gold-guilded bracelet & stoplight jewels
An OC evening on plasticine deck chairs
And so that song’s gotta play
And so I’m gonna stay right here frozen
It’s a bitter still [...]
On January 6, 2010, I read at Barnes ‘N Noble Santa Monica. I read five pieces: “Wickedly wet liver…”, “Is Molly actually cross-eyed?…”, “There is a place on a map called Euless Texas…”, “Is it possible to write a clever country song about A.I.D.S.?…” and “Running like hell The El kicks out trash & dust [...]
Also tagged chicago, cross-eyed, poetry, safety, texas, videoBroken arm summer
Where I put the pins in
And reset the bone
With drunken days &
Seekless night
Stumble on & stupid fights
Your mighty 3-1-0 N.M.O.
Almost said & choked up head
Sunday morning calling to say goodbye
To Brillo cream & little eyes
And all the friends that look like you
Winter flu, upside down
False stops & parking lot tickets
Your mighty M.O.
Was to [...]
Emma, the accordion plays badges for you at sunset
Girl Scout patches of first fire made, best pressed linens & most unable to cry
As those crocodile tears mixed with high balls & beers, coasters make silence unachievable
And facades of flirtation untenable & the smallest battles are winnable with an oh-so-clever comeback
Strong drink, clear fire burning on [...]
Nightime wasn’t the way it was supposed to go down
In a town on the edge of the bay, daytime boats
You talking through tears about something that face did
And the way when he put his hand on your shoulder to say, “I’m sorry”
It made your skin crawl across the floor & disappear into the corner
Another glass [...]
On June 27, 2009, I read at Barnes ‘N Noble Encino, Ron Dvorkin’s reading. I read two pieces: “Chicken by the pound put down…” and “Without battery automatic operated” Please visit www.adambresson.org for more poetry and writing. Hope you enjoy!
Also tagged death, dvorkin, fried chicken, poetry, ronHey man with the cool pony tail,
she TXT’ed you!
Has your phone number on speed dial
right next to gems #1 & #2
bedazzled razzmatazz
& there’s nothing evil in checking ID’s.
She said she was very sorry while
stroking the greasy tail
like a snake charmer
without the incantation.
She sees seashells by the unsure.
You bought her those stilettos
& that Hello Kitty belly [...]
Chicken by the pound put down
Plate put together with chicken parts
Drink down white wine, listen to the whine.
Beat Up Eye Woman says:
>She keeps the heat from the attic from the living room with insulation that comes from space.
Tan Face Curly Hair Man says:
>From the space station, I think. I got a little color. I work [...]
Without battery automatic operated
Ron rages on in the pushed together lips
And creased brow of a man waiting to scream
Whiskey-powered blood
Hidden in a flask that has scraped on it
The initials of his grandfather’s grandfather
Dvorski name carved out callously
Could have been Dvorak, Dorski, Dvorka
Would have been a disaster
That fallen son haunts you
To be reborn afterbirth wasn’t your [...]
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