ISSUE #2

01/05/2009

INTRODUCING JAMES DARMAN
NOTHING HERE
13 POEMS

EMPTY NAMES

i’m tired of places w/ names

Paris

Rome

London

Libson

i’m tired of important faces

Caravaggio

Picasso

Modigliani

Kline

i’m tired of great men

give me a lone cat

give me a wilting flower

give me a broken pen

an empty notebook

a full jug of wine

eggs over easy

and a waitress

who doesn’t know

my name

or

purpose

______________________________________________________________________

A POEM W/OUT BEAUTY OR SORROW

in a cold dirty alley

i once called home

there are flowers growing

thru the concrete fissures

between the green dumpsters

and the fast-food refuse piles

someone is trying to fill my shoes tonight

w/out beauty and w/out sorrow

__________________________________________________________________

TONIGHT THE STARS

passing so many houses, passing so many doors

so many paths to nowhere, so many exits

and now here is home, thru this wooden door

into these hollow walls , the oak dresser

the marble end table , the cracked lampshade

the stained carpet ,the worn couch

the stars look good tonight, with a half a bottle of wine

__________________________________________________________________________

BLACK DESPAIR OR EXQUISITE BEAUTY

what is this vessel called home?

this endless river

come to rest

in the Atlantic ocean

or on 2nd avenue

or in the night sky

so empty?

with grief

and sorrow

of

dying

stars

__________________________________________________________________________

KILLING THE MACHINE WHILE LIVING LIKE AN ANIMAL

what strange birds; green feathers and white heads

peck the ground and sip at rancid puddles in the yard

raccoons climbing thru the trees off the roof

into the garbage cans; eating yesterdays meal

iguanas frozen stiff in the limbs of palm trees

tongues leering out the sides of their mouths

And now a burping and farting garbage truck

w/ men leaning off the side smiling in straw hats

my wine isn’t strong enough to live with machines
__________________________________________________________________________

LEAVES SCATTER LIKE BUTTERFLIES

across the driveway

moving left

moving right

gathering in piles

drunk on the wind
__________________________________________________________________________

GETTING THE GROCERIES

the sun is almost unbearable

and the birds seem to know it

they squawk and cry above

i push the pedals of my bike

taking up the whole road

the cars honk and wave their fists

and they’ll do this all day long

moving down the road trapped

as i drink a bottle of wine

and fry some eggs and sausage
__________________________________________________________________________

LOST IN THE GARDEN

i have no home

a lifetime

of park benches, of jail cells

of hospital beds, of hotel rooms

of hard floors, of grave earth

a lifetime

lost in the garden of the night’s stars
__________________________________________________________________________

WINE TODAY

nothing but water and silence

some life still goes on visiting

a large beetle bouncing around

in the wind and trees outside

until a small green lizard pounces

no wine today but the wind moves on
_________________________________________________________________________

WINTER’S ROAD

there’s

a deep frozen river

in my chest

i fill it with wine

and take a long piss

in the bushes

then wander

down the

road

_________________________________________________________________________

MORNING BIRDS

hundreds of birds fill the trees

singing their violent morning song

waking me from my deep slumber

i rise and light a cigarette

inhale

and strong wind sways the branches

exhale

and the birds scatter
________________________________________________________________________

MY MORNING WINDOW

i draw back the curtains

letting in the grey sky

a small lizard sits on

the window sill

he moves slowly away

and eats a spider

i move outside and watch

the neighbor water his gardenias
_________________________________________________________________________

NOTHING HERE

the wind is blowing strong

i go out to check the mail

there is nothing in the box

black vultures fly above on grey clouds;

aviators in the void : here- then gone
___________________________________________________________________________

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5 Responses to “ISSUE #2”

  1. Awesome!! Everything in here is incredible! Well done, Mr. Plath! Great concept! Fantastic author! Amazing issue! James Darman rocks!!

  2. Thanks Rod “Stewart” Plath, Missed reading Mr Darman’s stuff after I stopped using MySpazz, but now we get a whole luxurious load. Really excellent stuff, and I would buy a book by the fucker.

  3. Andrew said

    Nice batch. I read 200 pages of this fucker in one sitting one night..I nearly puked from sorrow. Great poet.

  4. Agree with the above. This is one hell of a selection.

  5. jackhenry said

    darman s the maddest of the mad

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