Throwing Beer Cans at the Moon

Al Ferber

Description

Is about the Easter egg hunt of the apocalypse, the over cooked hamburger on a stale hamburger bun, the disappointment of an acne breakout just before the senior prom, the green hornet in your omelet, the pecker tracks on brand new sheets, skid marks in your underwear, and he holy book of consistent inconsistencies. Amen. I think. But maybe not.

Sujets

• Aluminio
• Ferber
• Poetry
• Poem
• Apocalypse

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 14 février 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669867401
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Throwing Beer Cans At The Moon
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Al Ferber
 
Copyright © 2023 by Al Ferber.
 
ISBN:
Softcover
978-1-6698-6741-8

eBook
978-1-6698-6740-1
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
All poems have appeared in Mangle/zine
and are reprinted here with the editor’s
permission. Al Ferber
 
Cover Art by Al Ferber
Cover design by Al Ferber
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 02/14/2023
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
849861
 
This book is dedicated to my writing and
painting patron Cathi Ferber, who always
serves as my Lord Master & Keeper of all
my keys. Aka The Weather Lady
 
Also my long time friend, coconspirator,
video and audio producer, biographer, editor,
poet, writer, and consiglieri. Hop Wechsler.
 
Joanne Gorman Klein, cousin from the hood,
sister from another mother, another coconspirator, photographer, painter, writer,
And natural irritant.
 
Paul Lutton, who I met in the encampment
of a prodigious cult in Samaria swimming with
wood nymphs. Poet, coconspirator, and die hard
Eagles (Super Bowl Champions 2023) fan.
CONTENTS
Crucible, Goblet, Liquor Store, Melting Pot
Bull Riding by Moonlight
Omaha Angels 1
Omaha Angels 2
Soul Snatcher
Those Days
I Was Just Standing There
1 0t h and Diamond
Throwing Beer Cans at the Moon
The Night In The Parking Lot
Civilization
Now I Get It
Archaic
Oops
Old
Change
Never Seen Anything Like That Before
Hey Doc
Hey Doc (2)
Doc Said
Sauce Pan of the Heavens
Drinking Different
Socks
Missed Appointment
His Daughter’s Name
For Fear
Headlong
Moods
Gold (For Jack A.)
2n d Sight Theater
Here’s Another One
Blades of Grass
At Least
My Safe Place
U-Turn
The Parade
Tattoos
Excerpts
Wild Child
Warehouse
The End
Deli Order
Alignment
Almost
Awakening
Shit In The Woods
Gathering Information
The Journey The Path The Way
The Prying Moon
Sepulcher
The Mayor
Surprise Surprise
To all my enemies:
Tables
And THIS……… is
Youth In Asia
Ed
Prick
Yep
How Bizarre
Mongrel
My Last Confession
Short Ugly Story
Why
It’s True
Who Knows
News Flash
Sheets Off The Bed
Marlboro
Dumb Fuck
Howl
The Crust of The Earth
News Alert:
Gatekeepers
Nah
I’d Rather the Rats
Really, It Was
Baggage Carters
Progress
In Short
Crash & Burn
Shaking Shitless
Rabbit Hole
Hey Pop
Lone Wolf
Journey To The Center
Point 55 Alcohol Level
Sylvia of The Spirits
London Fog
Can’t Look Away
No Lie
Looking Glass
Meet Me
End Times
The Berlin Wall
Eye Of The Storm
Coulda Been
True Dat
On The Line
What We Learned
Sisters
Gramma
The Path
Friends
Garden Party
Bright Enough
If I Could Do It All Over Again
Bill the Seagull
Black Walled Tavern
Idiot
Go Figure
Svengali
Water Phrases
Time Line
Magic Mushrooms
Progress
Stories
It’s Time
Sweat
Frankie Something
Finger
Pedestrian
Ache
Blind Alleys
Nice Day
Koolaid
The World
Spring in February
Mirror
Sacrifice
The Point
End of Night
Closet/Street
The Task
Strike Down
Intro
by Hop Wechsler
For those of you who bought this book expecting Ed Sanders’s “Beer Cans on the Moon” (1972), there are no geodesic honky tonks to be found. But there are poems.
 
Here, the bar is always open, the past always flows, and the road movie continues, like all road movies continue, towards an end that doesn’t end because when it does end, you can watch it over from the beginning.
 
When you throw beer cans at the moon, you miss the moon, or maybe you miss *only* the moon. The beer cans are empty, or maybe they’re full. It doesn’t matter, really. You won’t regret missing the moon. In fact, it’s better that way. What you end up with is this book.
 
What this book ends up with is what every book ends up with: enlightenment. Unless you read it backwards to the beginning, in which case you end up with unenlightenment. Either way, it doesn’t end, as long as you keep reading.
Crucible, Goblet, Liquor Store, Melting Pot
or whatever you want
to call it
keep finding me in one kind
of
cement mixer or another
listened to a bar band
playing Jimi Hendrix stuff
before I ever heard any
Jimi Hendrix stuff
on Saturday nights danced
with the co-owner’s wife
partook of the services
of a woman who stood
by the mens room door
if that gives you a taste
of the half ass goings on
Bull Riding by Moonlight
The old man wound up
on his back
with the help of a barrel
chested animal
with a mean streak wide
as an interstate highway
and some nitwit jumped
over a table and on to
the brama bull’s back
and I rode that son of
a bitch till six other
dudes jumped in to help
Omaha Angels 1
Four idiots in a well used
Kayata
on a mission from some
kind of fictional
road god
a cooler filled with cans
of beer and sandwiches
a overheating breakdown
on an interstate
in Omaha Nebraska
driver says to the other
three
“I guess we’re fucked”
 
consider the scene set
 
 
*this belongs in a story
from another movie
Omaha Angels 2
Two angels from Omaha
enter in the right lane
in a van big enough to
accommodate themselves
and the four idiots from
the broke down Kayata
told the idiots they were
sent by the prime minister
of New Zealand to aid
them in their lifetime
of need. They arranged
for a local garage to tow
the car and make repairs
necessary to get them
back on the road.
the garage, unfortunately
was in Kentucky, two
blocks east of where
the annual derby is run.
upon hearing this the
four idiots jumped out
of the van and ran off
screaming into
a corn field and were
never seen or heard
from again. the angels
drank the beer
and ate the sandwiches.
There was no curtain call.
Soul Snatcher
I’ve heard that some
indigenous peoples
feared their souls
would be lost by having
their pictures taken
turns out I’ve gotten
myself involved in a
life long relationship
with a
genuine soul snatcher
And she does it
as effectively and
sneakily and better
than I dared imagine
just when the subject
is least aware a click
the soul is snatched
and frozen
in a single photo
she’s got
quite a few souls
under her belt
me my father and
hundreds of others
click click
click she’s at it again.
Those Days
Those days