daniel gallik is one of cleveland's most active & imaginative
poets. he co-hosts a live poetry extravaganza called expresso
expressions each month at arabica in bainbridge, ohio. Ngallik@aol.com
How To Make The Local News Show In America
The jolts that his children provided
were dulling his psyche to a point
where he was looking more and more
to his wife to excite him. She had
developed wrinkles in the years of
their past. She hadn't known real fun
since she lost her job as a salesman
in the cement factory across town.
All of a sudden one day, he bought
a rifle at the KMart down the street
and accidentally shot his big toe,
and then, because he was angry at
himself, he walked over to the home
next door, and shot the divorced
lady's middle aged suitor's rusty
van to the point it had to be towed.
Once Large, Lusty and Fullblown
Great is fallen equality
says the drunk before he
has a drink. He goes on.
Great is Adam as he falls,
then lapses into screams.
Away, far away, is peace.
He is into his second hit
of Silver Miss, a cheap
bourbon whose company has
slipped out of business.
'When I was young I wished
for maturity, but now I
wish to have my first jolt
of sex again with a sixth
grade teacher I met when
I was too young to tell
her my age. She asked me
if I knew what a woman was.
I immediately told her of
my poverty.' He used to
be lusty. Now he sits on
stools and does not pon-
tificate. Instead, just
sits. Only talks when
spoken to, then jacks off.
I TALK TO MYSELP
- I talk to myselkf
- I as a man spitup fractionst;this
- man weeps like a computerthats dying.
My hairdo is flatter,my chance of error
more as years pass into minuteseconds.
Crasheddsmokedand smoldering lsowly, no
wishes, goneare any purposes other than
breaths fogging flass gpanes inahouse.
Hate fate as I skate whenn out late.
Italk to myuself
- Given overtoo ikons any squeal of
- worth, I sag and moan like any hueman.
This man sflicks his years and hears
HIS f ears, and gains weary bad luck
as Goddsuckson. IGain inches and ditchs.
I push, purse money and smile at crowds
because I do not know anyone anymmore.
Mite as well kno many as much as 1.
an Dont i talk,
talkto mi self?
Dust in the air, Popocatepetl
pushes its dusty phlegm into
the clear blue sky. 2 dark
women with luring eyes float
within their open windows ask-
ing for Yankees' raging penises.
I beg for a price with the dumb-
dumb Spanish I believe I know.
They dicker. I am bored and
again look to the volcano,
asking for an explosion but
I only breathe in more smoke.
One, one with dark penciled
eyebrows grasps my old arm
and my cock begins to glow.
She squeezes hard, brings blood
to my arm, and lends me a good
price. The other looks more
alluring. Again, I look over
to this country's angry cone,
see in the distance a cross
before her planted in the ground,
bent over, as if failing, and
pointing to the one, the luscious
one whose lips now are wet. I
touch her, give her her price,
ask her in my dulled language
to eat my cock before it burns.
She has no smile for me, only
a fake pearl necklace, a warm
arm, and nipples that pulse
with the vibration of active
death. I am a northerner who
knows only order in my life, and
this chaos excites my hardness as
come, come comes just touching
her right arm. The cone erupts
in a weak way sending its common
steam into the cloudless sky.
The boredom makes me laugh as
she sticks her old hands out
for payment, then smiles, smiles.
I give her two Washington dollars
to see if my hilarity has carved
an edge. Looking down, she laughs.