Bet On the Gods Nothing Else is Certain by Christopher Robin

homeless chris lost his campsite
for years independent,
he could bathe and cook there
but the city moved in
metal mike cant find any oil in Texas
comes home to baby and poet mama
every few weeks-
calls me from the racetrack
dan the marshmallow man is outta weed
two suicide attempts at the ½ way house in one week
yesterday I almost crashed into Mellow Mike
while biking down Pacific avenue
I caught up with him later
and explained I didn’t have any brakes
he immediately got his tools out
and tightened them
I gave him 2 cigarettes for the help-
I cant afford to tighten my karma
I used to give away entire ssi checks in one town
hitch out
and was handed money by a stranger in the next-
I buy two tacos and a coffee
and sit in the sun at the Firefly Café
smoke and enjoy my buzz
I will go to the local store
sharing the car with the soft poet and the short story writer
we will buy cheap smokes for the month
homeless chris will sleep on my couch
for the weekend-
I worry mostly about the deterioration of my health
in the coming years
in so many ways I know they are trying to kill
people like us
and I don’t know if marshmallow dan can really prevent
another earthquake from ever happening
via the radio signals in his room
but still cigarettes are going up to $6 a pack
and I cant afford to give him more than 3 per visit
whether he is saving the world or not-
my sis doesn’t get the welfare anymore
so we went into the junk business together-
I know it’s tight out here
a junk seller always knows
treasure becomes irrelevant in the face of scarcity
necessities become luxuries
nice clean clothes with the tags still on ‘em
lucky to get 50 cents from the Mexican women
who pick through my pile
but still
I don’t wanna load ‘em back in the van
under the dead heat of early summer,
so ok-
I come off like I hustle
but I’ve had it pretty good
I jumped off the cliff pretty early in life
never gave myself a chance to study the ways of employment
I sought experience instead
I’ve roamed thousands of miles of this earth
keeping myself open to miracles
to coins to street minstrels
I was rarely disappointed
though I stayed in the drink for too long
always with the underground angels
always blessed
I have no skills or resume
there is nothing I can do in the mainstream
open hands
that is the key
I know I sound like a hippie
but in a kind world
that is where my philosophy lies
I’ve always believed the stars are chump change
in my hands
I’ve never believed in one god
I’m a foolish gambler
it is better odds to bet on all of them
and often
using trick dice whenever possible

**Christopher Robin is my guest poet. I will run his interview/review tomorrow.

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5 Responses to Bet On the Gods Nothing Else is Certain by Christopher Robin

  1. Yes! Is this THE Christopher Robin of “Who Will Pay the Royalties for the Voices in my Head?” Now I’m peeing on myself.

    This poem is awesome. That’s my brilliant contribution. I love the trick dice. Love the characters. Amazing voice.

    I can’t wait for the interview.

  2. Scot says:

    Yes it is–he is a friend of William Taylor. He sent me three new ones. I have another in the interview–nice guy besides a good writer.

  3. nathan1313 says:

    This is a fantastic work of art. I can’t wait to read more. “treasure becomes irrelevant…” lines burn with truth

  4. ybonesy says:

    Ditto. Hard and raw.

  5. maurie says:

    Nice work, powerful prose within the structure of the poem . loved it.

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