Senor Plume

Mostly poetry. Binghamton, New York.

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NYC 1989

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ennui eyeball

with the fried macaroni noodles on the floor I enter this domain for a cough session and a quick licking of my elbow

I love myself you see so I walk among narrowed corridors and shine like frosted moons in deep December

foisted upon me are an egg crate filled to capacity with glasses of milk that I will not drink no matter my thirst and a box of dolphin lips that are quite tasty when broiled under a Michigan sun

I am way beyond the sun though

“honey, can I wax you.. you know..for the hell of it”

and a hand job with sweet kisses… she like this because she can keep her copy written clothes on and I go for it like a dog to a bone because I can let my come drip past her fingernails and down my mighty shaft into the nest of pubic hair that I have styled now for 30 years (not a gray in the bunch)

but now that the tissues have dried the remnants and that our newly corrupted voyeur cat has written his biography I hide among bushes with thorns and come out bleeding profusely from every orifice like Ebola but only more manly

so, so what of the noodles on the carpet and who cares of come dripping? this is my night and I can do with it as I please and I plan on spending it screaming ‘till my head pops off (like sunflowers..like dandelions) and this chorus of chain gang prisoners make my night complete

so much for my ennui eyeball I am now officially excited and I have you to thank for it

God bless your ten digits God bless your kissable lips I am spent because of you like a penny falling out of Lennon’s pocket on the night he was cut down that cold winter night

quite like tonight and I hear a gentleman behind me calling out my name I turn around to find six bullets all headed my way and this evening is now called do to the event of rain

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The Dukes Of Stratosphear "You're a Good Man Albert Brown"

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I buried the waffle iron and told her I'd grab something later.

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Enjoying psychedelics? May I suggest listening to the Dukes of Stratosphear. It's a trip,man.

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Two favorite things.

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tea pot whistles dixie and she dances around in her favorite cardigan and red suede shoes

her bones shatter and the wig falls off

she removes it all

soon she's nude standing in front of the window

watching the taxi's go back and forth from behind her shade

her cats rubs her ankle and she wakes up for the second time on this Tueday afternoon

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scribbling into a Mead notebook by full moon light by a lake whose name escapes me

California and drunk

age of 18 with a mighty bag of weed hiding in the innards of a teddy bear

a born and raised New Yorker with my best friend who bought a mini van for this adventure

the gallon of cheap wine that we passed around really did a number on us and my pal zonked out in his fold up chair

so, I grabbed my pen and notebook and stumbled on down closer to the water

I sat on a rock and began writing

for close to a hour I remained there with the moon and my pen

it was too dark to reread what was written down

I got up and singing a popular song of the day I grabbed my sleeping bag and curled myself into it

excited to see what it was that I wrote down

…

later the next day while we were driving to our next destination I remembered that I wrote the night before

I reached into the backseat and snagged the pad

I found it after flipping through a few pages

it was all word slop

almost in vertical lines and barley readable

I closed it up disappointed

I was really wondering what could have been on my mind the evening prior

on that California beach summer '88

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Crackity Jones resting on some vinyl.

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snail walking next to my bed he's got feet and sweet antennas I watch him with my head propped on the pillow out of my sandy right eye

he finds the Combo's and goes into the bag for a snack I hear him chewing loudly and it's rather irretating

after 15 minutes he comes out and is unable to walk any more so he crawls on his busting belly and looks up at me in bed and says "dear friend Kevin, what's with the crusty eye?"

I look back at him and don't respond I'm upset with his british accent fucking limey

I pull my leg out from under the sheets and lay my foot on top of his head and I rise on top of him

now the little bugger is just a stain on my persian rug….he fits in nicely actually with the cracker crumbs on his lower lip and the insect blood

I get up fully and reach for my royal robe which hangs on the closet door

I look good in it well, that's what I've been told anyway

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this mind of mine is in blurry state

I don't know if it's from the lack of sleep or the constant puffing from the pipe

my frontal lobe has an ache …a balloon breathing right behind my forehead

it's not painful so much but it's past annoying

I remove my old man glasses and twist my knuckles into my eyes …digging in to pop the balloon

little lights and sparks present themselves behind my lids and I feel a bit better

awoken

I pack the pipe again and sing fare thee well

as I blink a few times

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drunk butterfly screams out my gramophone

drunk with beauty

sober with class

I raise the bottle to my mouth and take a healthy chug

she's with me now

she tickles me just a bit as I sit up at the end of the bed

pure and naked

alone with the telephone stuffed with rags and socks

the doorbell hanging from wires in the kitchen

nothing to bug me tonight

unplugged the computer

threw a rancid boot through the television set

bolted all the doors and closed all the drapes

just me, the bottle and the butterfly

this music.. this amazing gift that God Himself gave to me the day I was puled out is something else indeed

It's my one true love

loyal to the end

never gave up on me or cheated on me

never threw me out and never ever left me

the butterfly understands me

She can't talk but she can sing of course she's with me 100%

I don't know how to pay her back for so many nights of joy she has given me

My life? it's hers for the taking My soul? why the hell not

this drunk butterfly and me have a good thing going

always have for as long as I can remember

behind the bar she came to me one morning when I was alone and she never left me

she's been with me all the time

she will never leave me I know this

others have been put off by our strong love

they could not understand how I always loved her more and so they took off in a stormy huff

fuck 'um I say fuck 'um till it hurts

I don't need nothing but a drunken butterfly

I shout out Amen!

rattled the windows just a bit and rise from the bed to dance just a bit

a victory jig for me and the drunken butterfly