Featuring Bill Gainer

The Brotherhood of the Street
                       Hill St., Chinatown, L.A. 10.29.17

The guy walking 
toward me
a bit scruffy
stops
asked
the guy kneeling
if he could be
next.

The guy
with the clippers
cutting hair
looks up
says
What you want man?

A trim.

I’m trying to sell 
these clippers. 
You want to buy ‘em? 
Three bucks. 
I keep the batteries. 
You got any money?

No.

Then fuck off. 
  

Counting Monsters 

When all the monsters
have visited
what else is there
to be frightened of ...

Perhaps not knowing
they have –
unless you’ve counted.
Even then 
you could miss
one or two.

They are 
sneaky bastards. 
Hiding under beds
in cracks in the walls
even the bottoms 
of empty 
shot glasses.

That’s just a guess
but it does seem
there’s always 
one more
to deal with. 

Then and Now

Ah kid, 
old friends and family – 
are forever. 
Politics aren’t enough 
to kill the bond. 
It’s the things you believe in 
together 
that bind.

Brother Vern, gone now 
we’d tangle with them – 
often. 
Not because we wanted to, 
but because we had to. 
It was different.
we were there – part of it.

He’d tell me 
It doesn’t mean nothing 
until the blood soaks in – 
then it’s yours. 
Wanted to know 
Was that something 
we needed to do? 
I’d tell him, yeah.

We’d go down to the Crow’s Nest 
the Yacht Harbor, Santa Cruz 
order up New Yorks 
and Harvey Wall Bangers 
act like we had money. 
Talk about getting Kae St. Marie’s 
52 Chevrolet back on the road.

It was 1969 
she liked the salad bar 
it was new
we were young.
 

Sub-Allergies

They don’t make 
my eyes water
or things like that.

It’s just 
I don’t really care
for them.

So I stay away
avoid their
company –
don’t pick up 
the phone 
answer
emails.

If someone
mentions 
they haven’t been 
able 
to get through –
well ... 
you know
I’m busy. 
 

Walking into Loneliness

Who we used to be.
We’ll never be again.

All those first times
I was scared then.
Now 
looking at the last times.
I’m scared again.

It would be nice
a little silly 
even
but nice
if there’s someone
there
to hold my hand
when my crossing 
is close.

Talk the cheap talk
the easy stuff
the lies
about beauty
love
and missing you.

Maybe a middle aged
woman
nice hair
a little salt
good teeth 
and a smile
No church breath.

Just someone
who knows 
how to walk you 
out 
into the field
tall grass
butterflies
and red winged
black birds.

Tells you it’s time
to let go.
Tells you
you’re safe.
Now.
Forever.

And make you
believe it. 

Old Poets

Got a note 
today.
An old friend 
got knocked over 
in NOLA.
Hell 
what’s an old poet
got?
Empty pockets.
They cleaned him
out.
Took it 
all. 
At the airport
they gave him
a hard 
time.
What the hey –
man.
Rock stars
get inlaid
pistols
and thugs
so they can act 
tough.
Old poets
it’s a hangover
and a long ride 
home – 
empty
and alone.

Bill Gainer is a storyteller, humorist, poet, and a maker of mysterious things. He earned his BA from St. Mary’s College and his MPA from the University of San Francisco. He is the publisher of the PEN Award winning R. L. Crow Publications and is the ongoing host of Red Alice’s Poetry Emporium (Sacramento, CA). Gainer is internationally published and known across the country for giving legendary fun filled performances. His work is not for sissies. Visit him in his books, at his personal appearances, or at his website:http://billgainer.com