Atomic Monkey
I’d like to talk about my poem “Atomic Monkey”, and in doing so, talk about my whole life. When I got sober I use to go to these meetings where people trying to get alcohol and drugs out of their lives would gather and talk about how that was going. Sometimes a whole group of…
Two Cans of Ballantine Ale
I remember it being sometime before 11:30 when I let myself into my sister’s apartment – like 11:20. A Friday night. I could not tell you where I’d been the last seven hours or so, other than flashes of being in my car driving on Route 1, I think through Saugus and maybe as far…
On the Cusp
I am filled with questions, here, on the cusp of my 70th birthday. A day before the first day of my eighth decade on the planet. Still up here, above ground. Still upright, no white chalk outline around my body. Not yet. And I wonder – will I get another decade? Out on a walk…
Here’s a Day – Irvine
Repetition breeds familiarity, and familiarity breeds, what? – Comfort? In other words, is there comfort in a butt-and-back-worn seat on a Greyhound Bus? Like the one I’d taken from Boston to San Fran. Just tell the story. Now a month on my friend Bob’s couch, and having struck out in my lofty job search for…