Recent
Recent Poetry
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HEART OF IMAGINATION i hear african birds in the sweet afternoon excess….they remind me of many things, most of them way too ludicrous to discuss here….one that i’ll talk about happened to me when i was with tom peters. we were in north dakota, driving east, from montana to minnesota. the only way to get there is through north dakota. north dakota was one of my least memorable experiences. the only reason i bring it up now to comment on its utter lack of things to say about it. i think brenda lee is from there. brenda lee. — Jon Sarkin jonsarkin.com

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Y’know what I think? Man, you DON’T wanna know….I got a head fulla ideas that, if I told ya, well, they’d bust yer brain. And you don’t want that to happen. This friend of mine, Fat Louie, busted his brain one time on account of having too much – way, WAY too much – information about a situation that he was – or wasn’t – depending upon your perspective, which I’ve heard – and – don’t get me wrong, friend – this is just hearsay – kind of HEARD IT THROUGHT THE GRAPEVINE stuff, y’know? Anyway, back to Fat Louie. We all got a friend like Fat Louie. Well, not EXACTLY like Louie, but somebody who is our friend but can’t be trusted completely, no, not really. He’s always late or owes you money that he’s always promising you he’s gonna pay back, but that day never seems to roll around. He’s always hanging out in the coffee shop I go to, doing nothing, really, just sitting on his fat ass and doing nothing, making small talk with no meaning or purpose, just a run-on sentence in pants. I always sorta wanna read him the riot act – tell him TO GET IT TOGETHER, thinking that being harsh with the dude’d somehow set him straight, but on second thought, knowing that no matter how severe I get with him, it’s not gonna really matter, that it’d be like hitting a dead dog with a stick. I feel sorry for Fat Louie. I really do. Never made anything of himself. Just sits around in his track suit and says to anybody who’ll listen HOW YA DOIN? All day long. That’s his gig! And when the place closes, hell if I know what he does. At least when he was a kid, he could hang out with his friends, who’re all probably losers like him. In fact I KNOW they are. They hang out at the coffee shop too. Shorts in the summer, wool hat in the winter. Like I’m any different. Like I’m any better. I put my pants on one leg at a time. I wonder who invented this saying? It’s thoughts like this that make me feel like I have too many ideas. I honor this feeling. I wonder what it’s like NOT to honor your feelings. Are there people that do this? Imagine your self-esteem being so low that you can’t muster the energy to even honor your feelings. Your energy level must be pretty low. In fact, maybe you have NO energy. But if you had no energy, how could you be alive? You’d be a zombie, like those guys in THE NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Fat Louie is pretty close to these guys, energy-wise. I hate to admit this, on account of him being my friend. Like I said, I feel sorry for him, Hell, I feel bad about a lotta stuff besides Louie. Don’t get me started.