Two in from Mr. Bussman this week, a haiku and a poem. Jake hates poetry poetry is good for you I kind of hate Jake. Continue reading →

He has it Learning to intertwine the secular sounding Rhythms of his cool jazz with a voice of my own My brother has always been Continue reading →

The Newspaper The newspaper came at 2:30 am, tonight. Yesterday, it didn’t come at all. I’d complain if I only knew who to. or if Continue reading →

Elegy for a man I barely knew You were a good friend of my dads. College buddies, drinking beer and chasing girls. You married friends, Continue reading →

Whats my name? Fuck you, that’s my name. by

Already left She gave him what he wanted because she thought it would keep him from leaving. He took it because it was there. What Continue reading →

This one is by Michael Bussman: A former would-be major leaguer makes the play of a lifetime It was august High altitude heat Very blue, Continue reading →

I’m bringing back the Thursday Poems. This was printed in the Outcast about a year ago. Outcast I’ve never worked as a bike messenger. Never Continue reading →

Jobs The jobs blur together, into one big mess. It gets to where I can’t remember, which preceded which. Who I worked with, for how Continue reading →

Tonight will not be here tomorrow. The bottle will still be here, barring accident or injury. Just like ourselves. But tonight will not be here Continue reading →

I thought about posting a poem I wrote. Never done it before, at least not that I can remember. And why not just post one? Continue reading →