We Know the Results (rough, new)

The Super Bowl is Over

and with it, speculation

as pros and amateurs alike

call in to collect their bets.

The Super Bowl is  Over

and we're all a little drunk and

mentioning our friends in Philly

and considering more cocaine

or maybe fighting the bartender.

I need to leave this shouting neighborhood.

The Super Bowl is Over

and there are so many new buildings

beckoning for retail, the suited men

look tired, these streets will not be clean.

the sports bars prepare for another

downturn and hope to live off

these profits at least until Saint Patrick’s day.

The Super Bowl is Over

and it is time to  sort my w2s.

The Super Bowl is Over

and my Dad’s best friend, laid to rest

at the Rainier Beach Mortuary in

a two hour ceremony one hour before

I work. My sister texting tears that

she can’t make it out.

My Mom’s pet dove, family pet for

thirteen years, shivering in it’s blanket

then still.

The Super Bowl is Over

and seriously fuck that one guy,

and his voting record, this can,

or has to, mean something. We

taste  his tears from TV screens.

The Super Bowl is Over

and there are buses I no longer take

pictures I’m wiping from my phone

a Cat I’ll never see again

and a line around the block

for a play I will not see.

The Super Bowl is Over

so no more guesswork. The why

it went the way it did are stories

that will change with tellers. There

will be another one next year

and after that, an occasion

for fundraisers and toy drives
and nachos and puppies

and million dollar commercials.

The Super Bowl is Over

which means there must be winners

but I am more concerned with losses now;

that corner space in the charming building
promised such potential, sits empty.

A Heated Conversation About Steampunk

Its like all these people put on their grandpa's peacoats
and have suddenly conjured a culture that doesn't really exist

Likewhat? saywhat? Youyouyouyoudontevenknow!
how can you say tell me the 5,000+ crammed into
top hats and convention centers
don't exist. This is about a past-future that never really was.

just ask the world's major religions.
just ask the north renton ghost society.
just ask the 53 year old woman who went
as slutty hermione for halloween.

(just because it's not pretty
just because it's not your scene--
this is the future we're talking about.

this is culture we're talking about.
this is the future of culture we're talking
about

--where things happen instantly!
all bolts and gears and buildings creaking
to life fired by boys with bangs
shoveling coal into ovens)

just ask the 15 Seattle-area entertainment magazine writers
getting paychecks from inventing and dismantling Zeitgeists.

You can't say that when the hats are so cute.
IT'S TOTALLY SEXY!

ten thousand elvis impersonators, drunk off prohibition cocktails,
dancing in a circle around brand new anachronisms.
Ten thousand others taking notes and shaking heads.
Complete rolling blackouts.

__________________________________________

this month is Nanowrimo. Instead of trying to squeeze in a Novel in my spare time I want to 1) write a new poem a day or 2) edit existing pieces or pieces of pieces. I think I can do this, even while I'm in the UK. The above needs some editing but it doesn't feel like a rehash of other things I've done, so I'm happy about that.

in other news, I'm getting rid of my mattress. wanna know why? last owner had cats. THAT. MIGHT. EXPLAIN. A LOT.