a writing from bourbon st

the street

the jazz

the music

all these diggalicious people jammin’ the jive

the inspiration

the cliché

the clarity

i see it, i dig it

four sips of katrina

i understand

lives get shattered and rebuilt

in a place like this

flooded and reborn, as i am now becoming

checking my mind at the door

my body to the gypsy guarding the closet


the woman in white keeps looking over

wondering what i am writing

what i am doing in the corner like cassady

sweating, grinding teeth

admired in sal’s paradise

fondly detaching

dislocating body from breath

life from dream

delusion from thought

lying on this marble

licking the chops of the legends

the lucky creatures

born into this imaginary utopia

blowing beside the Christ Buddha

ass fucking euphoria and refusing to cum

cause this drug’s too good to waste

hurtling through time

on a roofless yellow school bus

finger licking

the black

the blonde

the decapitated

this ain’t your Disneyland version

of hurricane Cajun blues

where the second floors store

the papier-mâché facades

this is the history

as real as teeth sinking into raw flesh


crack of a bullwhip

now god’s in on the party

bringing a downpour of celestial sweat

deadly streaks of manifested electricity

and i am in the corner

grinning like lucifer

plunging through the purity of lunacy


if i were ever to be exorcised

tonight is the night

i have succumb to the wrath of atomic energy

the writhing rapture of nirvana

open your mouth

take it

i’ll be pouring these words

bourbon chasers

for as long as i can go