James Babbs

I was born during the Johnson administration when the average household income was $6,899.00 and a gallon of gas cost just 32¢. I have been writing poetry since the early 1980s. I live in the same small town where I grew up. I still dream of becoming a rock star but I’d settle for Emperor of Wyoming. My poetry collection, Dictionary of Chaos, is still available from http://www.xlibris.com/

Some recent poems have appeared in Abbey, little white poetry journal, Nerve Cowboy, Open Wide Magazine, Remark and Words Dance and on the internet at The Cerebral Catalyst, Thieves Jargon, Underground Voices, Word Riot and Zygote In My Coffee.

"My Mother Falls"

my mother falls
trying to get something
from the refrigerator
she calls me at work
crying into the phone
telling me between sobs
she needs me to
come help her because
she can’t get up
off the floor and
she says she doesn’t think
she’s hurt and how soon
can I be there and
I tell her I don’t know
can’t she find somebody
else to help her but
she just cries no
into the phone and
I ask her if she’s sure
she can’t get up by herself and
I hear her sighing
with desperation before
she slowly whispers no
I say okay
I’m on my way and
as I’m driving there
past the speed limit
I keep wishing I’d moved
some place far away

"Progress"

there’s this pipe sticking up
out of my yard left behind
from the large satellite dish
that was once attached to it
the kind nobody has anymore
now everyone has the smaller ones
that attach right to the house
the pipe was here when I
bought the place anchored
in the ground with concrete and
abandoned after they took
the satellite dish down
I’ve been thinking about painting
it and putting a bird feeder on top
so I can sit at the kitchen table and
watch the birds but
I keep putting it off
maybe I’ll just dig it up and
get rid of it for good but
it’s still there rusting away and
every time I mow the yard
I have to trim around it

"Counting to Ten"

we played with guns
when we were boys
plastic rifles and
cap guns we
carried in holsters
we made rules
like
if you were shot
you had to fall down and
count to ten before
you could get up again
we roamed through
the neighborhood
all summer long
hiding
waiting to kill and
dying before
counting to ten so
we could live again

"Before Your Funeral"

the man from
the funeral home
brings us your clothes
wants us to
pick something out
for you to wear
Mom says
take the old clothes
out to the garage
because she doesn’t
want them in
the house and
my sister asks
what about socks
the man from
the funeral home
says yes I
like using them
we give him a pair
of black ones

"He Never Drank"

he never drank until
he went to college
and then he drank
all the time
got drunk every weekend
drinking until he
passed out and
his friends helped him
by duct-taping him
to his bed
scrawling dumbass in
permanent marker
across his forehead