From deep, deep in the cotton-pickin' red clay'd piney woods o' east Texas, I bring you the tales of my sister Bethzilla, hideous freakin' white trash welfare-cheatin' pill-popping, bowl-smoking, vodka-swilling redneck swamp thing what done crawled up out of the danged boggy bottoms of Uncertain, Texas and also of Momma, a transplanted, dirt-floored, rice paddy, hand-raised Cajun girl from the south Texas depression era. Take a look see. Go ahead, lookee.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Homeless Prose About How Homeless Goes
Gray Man
by James Jarvis
08/04/01
Gray man,
got no place to stay man:
sleeping in a piss-yellow Fairlane
parked in front of a motel
on Crenshaw Blvd
at 4 in the morning.
Gray man,
got no place to stay man:
you gotta move that piece of crap
in a few hours.
Nobody wants you around
in the day, man.
Gray man,
got no place to stay man:
you know they'll run you off
because you're smelly
and unkempt
and because you scare them.
Gray man,
got no place to stay man:
you know their chief objection,
besides the fact of your
existence,
is that they can see you.
They don't want to see you.
Gray man,
got no place to stay man:
I know a bridge you can park under
after 6, just down the way;
shady and unobservable.
You can take my old spot.
Tags: Jolie Blond, Gray Man, factotum, homeless, car dweller, street life, jarvis, poetry, invisible man, mumblecrust, marquisdejolie, spokenword, poets, homelessness
Labels:
Homelessness,
Jolie Blond
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