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Folksingers in Hell
Poetry
David Fewster is known for his creation of his poetry book, Diary of a Homeless Alcoholic Suicidal Maniac and other picture postcards, in 2003.
Homeless Guy Looking for Cigarettes is a poem that has won the Poetry on the Buses in 2004;
Homeless Guy Looking for Cigarettes at the Bus Stop
He picks up a crushed butt,
Doral, with lipstick stain.
“Low tar, less nicotine,” he frowns.
Old adage of beggars and choosers.
Inhaling, his mouth caresses the livid filter,
Color of a blood spoor,
As he dreams of kisses from the legal secretary he dated
All those many years ago
Tacoma Haikus
Full moon shines
Over telephone wires
Is the homeless broad still
Sleeping under that tree?
There'll probably be
Some gunfire tonight.
One a Day Keeps the Doctor Away
Today I took my daughter to the Bridge of Glass!
Boy, was she disappointed.
She thought the actual bridge would be made of glass
So we could see traffic going by our shoes.
After that, we went to the outdoor exhibits.
One of the biggest was a large cement pond
Filled with hundreds of red plastic apples
On closer examination, the apples were tied to the bottom
By fishing line screwed into plastic plates,
No doubt to keep the shiny forbidden fruit
From being stolen. Good thing, too!
I know I would of taken one.
On the edge of the pond was a bronze plaque
With the name of the artist on it.
He was born in 1945.
I sure hope when I'm in my fifties
I could have a idea that good.
His mother must be proud
Twelve million dollars--
That conceptual art gig is the way to go.
I wonder how much it would cost
To finance a produce stand in front of the sculpture
Where maybe an actual hungry person
Could get a real succulent and nutritious apple
Courtesy of Chihuly Enterprises.
We could call it
Interactive Performance Art.
You know,
I have good ideas like this
All the time.
But Hannah's about the bridge made of glass
is still the best.
Richard Brautigan
"Is that you?"
asked the little 3rd grade girl
in the school playground where
I had taken my 2-year old daughter.
She pointed to the cover of
Trout Fishing in America, which I was reading
while Hannah threw gravel at the monkey bars.
It must have been my hair
and the felt hat I was wearing.
"Yes," I replied
"Yes, it is."
And went home famous
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