Friday, February 5, 2016

Alan Catlin- Three Poems


Radio Free Albemuth

He stood rubbing
the graying stubble
of his weather beaten
face with the stumps
of his fat, dirty fingers
wrapped in torn,
filthy rags, peeling
small black scabs
from the crags of his
face ,as he slides
small exact change
across the wood for
draft beer said,
"My handle is
Radio Free Albemuth.
Bet you don't know
anything about the
book or the place
that inspired it.
I've been receiving
transmissions from
outer space long
before any one of
you ever arrived
on this planet, and
will be, long after
you're gone."
I thought, maybe,
this guy was doing
some kind of Martian
two step through the tulips,
it was  better to refer him to
a higher authority outside,
closer to the landing site of
the next divine invasion.
I'd even give him change
for the public phone, on
the corner of Quail,
if needed to call
home collect for
a pickup.


He looked as if

he'd lost a solar
lottery, been drafted,
shipped somewhere overseas
and fought the good fight
he never had a chance to win,
and all he had to show for it
was a nine inch scar through
his blind right eye, and discolored
skin from all the back
blasting napalm he
had caught dead on,
in some jerkwater
jungle town on the
edge of nowhere.
He was drinking over
time now, all day and all
night, to get back in his mind
to the place where he’d left
the dead and the maimed,
back to where he belonged.   


They were like

unstrung cosmic puppets
walking around in some
kind of comprehensive,
self-induced, comas.
The leader of the group
spoke in a dialect of slur,
projected through cracked,
pale lips by an off-stage
ventriloquist, with an evil sense
of humor, making requests
for unattainable, alcoholic
concoctions that could only
be made in an off-world bar in
a cafe like the one Han Solo
did time in between
flights, waiting for the next
Star Wars episode,
or, at least, that was the way
I tried to explain his lack of
communication skills
in terms he might understand.
"We're not getting through
to you," he said, and I replied,
"At least, we agree on something."
and found something else more
important to attend to while
he awaited new messages from
home base.


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