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:: Trent Reker ::

Bald monkeys with a ray gun | Bebop blues in a busted stereo speaker | God and f*cking | The news from Priceline

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Trent Reker was born on a train in the Arizona desert. He's been dead and has a cool scar across his neck to prove it. Waking from a 24-hour coma, doctors told his family he'd never be able to converse intelligibly. It's arguable that they were right. Two months later he put together his first sentence, "Can I have pickles?"

Living in New Orleans when Katrina blew in, Trent walked the city four days with his little family praying, eventually hitchhiking back roads along the Mississippi. As they sobbed, he dragged them along toward inevitable rescue.

::: Publishing History :::
Reactor Press (San Francisco, CA) published " shoot forth thunder " - August, 2007
Swallow Magazine (San Francisco, CA) published " poor writer, beautiful stripper " - May, 2007
20 Dissidents (Raleigh, NC) published - " June through August 2005 in New Orleans " - August, 2006
20 Dissidents also published "beer bubble blowjobs for fun and respect" and "beer bubble blowjobs for fun and disrespect" - March, 2007
Atonal Apples (Long Island, NY) published " untitled 05.13.05 " - June, 2006
Border Senses (El Paso, TX) published " summer " - May, 2006

::01:02:08::

::: Bebop blues in a busted stereo speaker :::

somebody stop me with a shopping cart from Wal-Mart
when the riots happen and I’m contemplating looting too
shake that thank you please I’ll have another
when the police man wags his finger
like a big black stick
upon a big black head
mister city policeman wags my finger
you’ve been bad
see that line behind you
they are all gonna wail on you

walking nationwide boulevards of strip mall wannabe billboard signs
a f*cking mile high
arg! screamed the sun
it’s burger king!

what a great thing to be in love
to never care the sentence structure
remembering bukowski
when the spirit is lost
the form comes

time for another drink

walking streetside remembrance of alleyway drug deal f*ck scenes
she wore her sunglasses at night, too
lying whore stole my money
I found her passed out at her kitchen table
four a.m. with her hand stuck in a jar of mayonnaise
I found her on the floor a few minutes later
when I pushed her there
that’s what she got for coming after me

America is called the homeland now
that makes it amerika
with a k for hurt you too
like a Hitler fantasy for the three times his dick ever got hard
its heartland
if the destiny of America can be nicknamed
if what she means to the world in times of darkness
can be reduced
it would be less frightening of world domination
at the expense of bill of rights gone wrong
wrong address
wrong phone number
wrong time to demand obedience
wrong abstract concept for control
wrong military operation
wrong spin tactic
wrong intelligence
wrong idea
wrong corporate memo
wrong cheese-filled pitchfork
wrong time to pretend it doesn’t matter to you if you can afford it

what have you given up lately
to make someone else rich?

Written by: ~ Trent Reker

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