My Cat And Me Make Ca-Ca On Dow Jones. We Scratch Out His Industrial Average Eyeballs


2007. Acrylic on paper, 17 X 27″

The post title is the painting. The poem below is for the writers of the world who cannot for the life of them ever write a business plan:

Somebody Please Stick Me in a Hillside

Anybody to come slap me on the shoulder and say
“Ah, a writer? Bien!” or
“Dat’s good,”
or “Here, bend over,
they must kick your ass a lot in America.”
I would feel at home
and this waste of time might be okay
I’d be like Christopher Robin
skipping through the forest with friends,
or Prince charming
riding through the forest
with friends
or the woodcutter at worst
fixing that evil wolf
for Red Riding Hood,
and not having many friends
but that’s okay because
I carry a bloody ax.
How wonderful!
One wooden cup
a bag of flour and some butter
a wood bed
a rain storm
washing my clothes in a barrel
of rainwater.
Wake up and go to bed
and a pouch filled with earth
tied around my neck

You have to climb into a hillside
if you want to be an artist in America
Dig a hole into a hill
and crawl in
Turn around in the hole
Cover your shoes with dirt
Drop your head into your shoulders
and watch the orange sunrise from your hole
Hope it don’t set before Pooh comes on a blustery day
bends over, looks into your hole and says
“Oh bother, you seem to be stuck
with your fat head in a hole.”
“Yes Pooh, please go away!”
“Oh bother, you’re not Christopher Robin.
Piglet, come here.”
“What is it Pooh?
“What is that thing stuck in the hill?”
“Oh silly Pooh that’s just a writer—
He’s probably thinking of a great story,
maybe a book for kids,
or a novel about a fireman.”
“Does it make honey?”
“Oh no Pooh, no.
Writers are useless creatures like us.”
“Maybe you would like to visit Mr. Rabbit with me, Mr. Writer?”
“Yes Piglet?”
“Writers like to stay stuck in the hillside.”
“Silly bear, because they are useless and unhappy.”
“Yes Pooh?”
“He doesn’t do anything?”
“He likes to sit Pooh.
Sometimes he might write, I guess.”
“Yes Pooh?”
“Let’s go visit Rabbit.
Goodbye Mr. Writer.
Enjoy your hole in our forest!”


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