Issue
#1

January
2009

a poem by Wayne Mason

 FRIDAY NIGHT WITH THE BIRD

Once you write
some poems about
factory floors
you will surely
draw comparisons
to Levine

Just like poems
about beer or fucking
puts you directly
in Bukowski's
giant shadow

The same way
writing poems to
Charlie Parker
will likely make
people cry
'Jack Kerouac'

But Friday nights
with nothing to
do or say, it's
all been done

When there is
no other way to
pass the time
but slamming
cheap beer in
my dirty garage
with Bird wailing
jiving and swinging
little matters
outside of this
otherwise quiet
little hood

least of all
your opinion

© Wayne Mason

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