Monthly Archives: September 2012

The Spaghetti Matador

Like compass points we held Our positions at the dinner table: East to west, my mother and me; North to south my brother and dad.   We waited for the south wind To blow in, spaghetti and meat balls Getting … Continue reading

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Kerouac poses—some wine-beat-moment of poetic genius—his postcard portrayal of a plaid-shirt-Jesus tacked up beside Bukowski hugging a whore. On my desk is the emptied half-pint of Paddy, Jimbo’s “Irish Rebel Jar of the Cosmic Eternity,” stuffed with dirt, peat, twigs, … Continue reading

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