A Poet Walks Into a Bar . . .

Harry stumbles in; a pair of Rayban 2000's cover his eyes.
..
"Coffee," he croaks, "and keep 'em coming."
 
A poet walks into a bar, knock himself unconscious. When he comes round he has composed The Perfect sestina but can’t remember a word of it.

I'll have some of that coffee too.
 
That reminds me ...it's Oct 1st ...time for a new challenge.
*Harry leaves for the challenge thread shouting for Tzara
 
Thanks for the nudge, Harry. So are you taking the job as Happy Hour Harry or what? Job has been offered. Pay is your letters' worth of bananas. :)
 
Pay is your letters' worth of bananas......Ehh?
..
I'm afraid I do not quite understand the reference
[banner]HAPPY HOUR (maybe only 50 min.) 6 to 7 central time zone[/banner]
 
Crap, did not work ##@$
Goes behind bar pours a stiff DeLord, begins wiping down bar w/towel
--I can't believe 'Dora's letting you work here. You will probably drink more than you sell.
"Don't worry about it Oldman, it's all under control."
--Is it? you know you are talking to yourself again
*Harry looks around the bar to see if anyone noticed
--Thanks Buddy, I hate when I slip up like that.
--One step ahead of the men in white suits Harry, one step.
 
a poet walks into a bar every four minutes. some of them stay and some of them forget but mostly they look. it's whatever.

i'm ross. about to be 31. i check in every now and again. i wrote some poems. they were ok. i live in nebraska. dispatch life flights. it's less cool than it sounds, initially.

i came here in '04. and then in '06. and then, i think, in '08. i was here, once, under an alias other than this one, one other time. it made me chuckle, and then it was just depressing. nobody likes honesty. especially untempered, dickheaded honesty. you can't blame them. also, i didn't stick with it because i tend not to do that. they say it's adult adhd. i say it's an overdeveloped ability to predict an ending.

poets i don't care for: bukowski, most of the time. the beats, most of the time. eliot. ted kooser. what's his fuck........ browning. neither browning, actually.

poets i used to like, but now don't give a fuck about, most days: cummings. whatsherfuck...... plath.

poets i like: rybicki, olds, S.P Mulroy, Rachel McKibbens, Bonair-Agard, simone Beaubien, Brian S. Ellis, me, on a good day, andy locke, sophia holtz, sam teitel on a good day, marty mcconnell on a good day, some of b. dolan's stuff, some of sage francis' stuff, whatsherfuck from portland... i forget. it's whatever.

going to bed.
 
HAPPY HOUR (maybe only 50 min.) 6 to 7 central time zone
..
*Harry clocks in, goes behind bar pours a stiff DeLord, begins wiping down bar w/towel
 
Harry looks at time, clocks out and sits at a corner table with his yellow legal pad...
The lowbrow crack irritates him at first but he shrugs it off as an over sensitive reaction to his lack of formal education Besides, it was true; he was a coarse man among refined masters of literature.
 
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*lowers brow then winks* (No it wasn't an anything. Just playing with words and looking for a joke.)
 
Jokes I got, Miss 'Dora
'What did the blind poet say as he walked by the fish market?
..
Evening Ladies
 
Good Lord. Shades of Rybka. (Fellow who used to keep a joke thread, here.)

ETA
*raises glass to Rybka's memory and buys the bartender a shift drink with bananas*
 
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Good Lord. Shades of Rybka. (Fellow who used to keep a joke thread, here.)
yeh. and while you're at it go read my "Blue Hour", and leave a comment. voting is turned off on that one

ETA
*raises glass to Rybka's memory and buys the bartender a shift drink with bananas*
yeh. and while you're at it go read my "Blue Hour", and leave a comment. just to let me know you really care, voting is turned off on that one so you don't have to worry
wink wink and all that emoticon crap
 
Rybka was a gentleman. :)
also went by the name of Reltne who wasn't
i left this place for 2-3 years, swore i wouldn't come back until i wrote some thing i felt would be a worthy as a tribute to him
i even imagined him seeing it

and telling me it sucked
yeh but ryb i cleared
out all the excess alliteration

that's why it sucks

i miss him
 
*Harry sits at his corner table, sipping coffee, reading the mornings posts, and shaking his head...
"Blue Hour" ? can not find it. Again he sees a common thread that seems sinister considering recent references to sonics and alliteration. Red, White, and now Blue, his eyes search the dark corners of the bar as he slips out the back door.
..
A smile is seen, fleeting, before he vanishes
 
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