Zack: Shoot me for Jesus

7/04/2012

Hey Kev

I thought I’d drop you a few lines since this week makes
five years since we left Iraq.

I know you say you ain’t the same without ur leg but I hope
ur feeling better.

I’ll feel hella better when I throw out these pills for crazies. 

Why does the fuckin’ V.A. give me pills when I say I need food?

Why don’t shrinks know people go crazy from hunger?

My partner died of AIDS last year so I got no one to talk to so I
went to Reno last month.

That was a big mistake, but the ticket was a free one way so I
figured I’d go see family.

My sister wouldn’t let me meet my nephew ‘cause I came out gay.

Her holy roller husband kept sayin’ he’d shoot me for Jesus.

So I spent the rest of my food money for a one way back to Frisco.

My family can kiss my faggot ass!

Oh well, that’s life for crazy fags and stupid war ‘heroes’

I keep hoping you’ll send me a card so I know ur alive.

I’d call but I can’t buy a phone.

I get $300 a month disability and it costs $200 for a week in a
crap hotel, so’s I won’t have a place for the next three weeks,
but please write to that address I sent anyways.

Please.

Love,

Zack

Photograph of graffiti left by homeless people who sleep on Clation Alley in San Francisco
The writings of the homeless men and women who sleep on Clarion Alley in San Francisco

(c) Rob Goldstein 2018

Subtitles

The lad is a wiz with computers
and
handy with grass.

Me: How is he today?

Henry: Oh. Quite beside himself.

Me: Lucky you. And the grass?

Henry: Never meaner…

Insight:

Good boys go bad or die.

Henry still thinks he’s in love
(c) Rob Goldstein 1992-2018

 

 

Into the Fire

from Rose, the Poet Rummager

Poet Rummager

into-the-fireIllustration by Ted Giffin

I’m seeing you tonight.

It isn’t my heart I worry about

or its thump, thump, thump

and its skips.

Nor is it my mouth

which talks far too much

and longs to whisper things

you shouldn’t hear.

I’m worried about my horns.

Have I polished them enough?

Can they be seen through my hair?

Are they sharp and tough

to pierce through your armor?

I’ll invade your guarded soul

and revel in its capture.

In my bed,

I’ll keep you satiated

in your defeat,

my most prized prisoner,

eternally chained to me.

 ***My poem was inspired by a fun conversation I had with Seeing the Whisper.***

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Wordless Wednesday: And The Fog Rolled In

 

 

 

Update, July 19, 2018

Rhapsody in Blue. George Gershwin, composer. Orchestral arrangement by Ferdi Grofe. Paul Whiteman and his orchestra with George Gershwin at the piano, 1927.

from The Internet Archives

Thanks for the idea, Miriam.