11/02/01 = Friday Poem

11/02/01 = Friday

Napkin #1:

Been weeks.
Back at "thee" bar.
The only bar this Life currently delivers
- too wonderful - and scary of late -
Arizona reality. A reality within
which I'm again learning how to bask.

Napkin#2:

The black and the pink. And,
we just refer to shirts here,
not "Wolfe's Now,"
the computer-war-bank-exciting now.
The product of the "Wolfe's"
and of "Wolfe's" opposition.
The "here" and the Arizona
poems come forth, every time lately -
like stadium abandoned peanut shells
still rotting on the stadium ground,
long after a canceled ball game,
that never even happened.

Napkin#3:

Why is it that 90% of these
napkins - these days,
don't find my computer.
And, why is it that only 3% of those
get translated once every 10 years
onto BDBP. (Sober note: because they suck)

Napkin#4:

We often lose "it;"
however, have you ever been in
the great 'state' to loose it ?
(your prowess)?
Yes, and not give a shit?
A man really has prowess
when he's lost it and doesn't give a damn.

Napkin#5:

The people in life without respite
push into my reality's constant effort to negotiate them.
The people are at once beautiful
and obstacles -
always,
every time,
but always more beautiful than obstacles.

Napkin#6:

Funny - no matter what I forget,
I never forget the current napkin-poem count.
No matter how far gone,
and knowing the crumpled
up state these poems migrate through
before usually being lost or ignored,
I cling to the importance of numbering and dating them
to give them at least the chance
like that of a castrated 
salmon swimming
up an infinite stream to mate.
A night with too many words
from too many people to distill well.
Into,few words by the bad drunken bar poet.
The night is great.
The night is unresolved.
The night is left with drunkenness,
multiple possibilities
and no resolve... ( rest of this passage was lost)

napkin#7:

wow, have you felt it?
The utter bliss of the care,
no inhibition.
Some get drunken when they get drunk.
Fortunately, some get naked,
exposed and discovered
when they get drunk.

napkin#8:

We made a submission,
about losing the play and not caring,
well now the honest play has been squashed.
And, I'm

(sober note: Although at this point my poetry presumably becomes encouragingly horrible,
the writing has become illegible)
  - hence, the end of this night's record.)

napkin#8: (Sober note: this napkin used to wipe up spilt beer)