Imitation is the Sincerest Form of ...

by Paul Hellweg

Thirty plus years as a

university professor

preaching about the perils

of plagiarism, then tonight

read a poem in an online ‘zine

that stole lines directly from me.

Move over Hemingway,

move over Bukowski,

move over Céline,

you ain’t the only ones

with words worth stealing.

I’m giddy with excitement,

I’m drunk on joy (well, Corona too),

I feel like I’ve finally arrived ...

I’ve been plagiarized!

Open Book

by Paul Hellweg

Most nights I sleep
with a dozen or so books
makes me feel less alone
and yeah
fuck right
I’d rather sleep
with
one woman
than a dozen books,
but books don’t
need anything,
they don’t give a shit
about my
low self-esteem
performance anxieties
night terrors,
and they don’t leave
in the middle of the night,
so until I meet someone
willing to read
all my pages
without critical commentary
and
open to offering the same,
until then,
my fate is destined to remain
more literary
than
satiated
satisfied
or
tolerable.

I’ll Paint You in Words

by Paul Hellweg

Watching La Belle Noiseuse,
“The Beautiful Troublemaker,”
Emmanuelle Béart
posing full-frontal
for a famous painter,
makes me think
I’ve chosen the wrong art form,
I seriously doubt if I could get her
or anyone
to pose nude
for one of my poems,
but think about it,
it does make
one
damn
fine
fantasy.

Any volunteers?

Miscommunicating by Poetry or My 2nd Ever Alyssa Poem

by Paul Hellweg

I meet women,
get interested,
get inspired,
write a poem or two,
get drunk,
e-mail the poems,
never hear back,
and now my dream
is to one day
meet someone
who hates normality
as much as I,
someone
not put off
by my
unconventional
and
defiant
approach
to social niceties,
one woman,
one poem,
one e-mail,
one response,
one dream.

Catalog Fantasies

by Paul Hellweg

Where I live,
we have rural mail delivery,
and the carrier commonly
mixes things up,
lately I’ve been getting
sexy catalogs in the mail,
last week Victoria’s Secret
(addressed to my
next door neighbor),
today a Venus swimsuit ad
(addressed to a woman
miles away),
and I honestly don’t know
what the universe
is trying to tell me,
perhaps the love I seek
is as close as next door
or maybe
it’s miles away,
or possibly my
hopes
dreams
desires
amount to nothing more than
catalog fantasies.

If they only knew

by Paul Hellweg

I intimidate people
just because
I write books
and
teach at the university,
little do they know
they intimidate me
because they
know how to do
what I don’t:
use a cell phone
make small talk
parallel park
back up without hitting other cars
wear shoes that aren’t mismatched
sleep at night
and
get laid.

The Single Life

by Paul Hellweg

I love someone
who loves another,
and that’s hard enough
to endure,
but still
that someone and I
get along so fabulously
I don’t mind her
not being mine,
well,
not always,
tonight, for example,
things went
the other way,
we had tickets to attend
a jazz concert,
just she and I,
no boyfriend involved,
then
tonight
she asked if he could
come along too,
and my response?
well,
it’s dark
and cold
and late
and
I’m drinking Scotch,
wishing,
as most of us singles do,
for someone
to love us
so we could stop thinking
we’re the only ones
who
hurt
this much.

Duck and Cover

by Paul Hellweg

I had lunch with Kumari today
and reminisced about my childhood,
how we had “duck and cover” drills
in grade school back in the 50's,
and we both got a good laugh
at the absurdity
of hiding under a desk
to save oneself
in a nuclear blast.

I should mention
that Kumari’s mother,
a 12-year-old schoolgirl
at the time,
survived Hiroshima,
otherwise the K. and I
wouldn’t have had lunch
today.

And I guess it’s always easier
to laugh at horror
than it is to go insane
embracing it,
anyway,
K. proposed that so many
people died at Hiroshima
and Nagasaki
because Japanese tables
are only a few inches high
and tens of thousands
must have perished
in nuclear holocaust
while attempting
to duck and cover
under tables
too short for anything
but the house cat.

Backing out of the parking lot

at the grocery store,
I hit a car
also backing out,
second time I've done that,
the first time
the other driver
was a raving bitch
who screamed at me
for hitting her car
while she was backing
into me,
this time
it was a
shy, quiet dude
who apologized
profusely
even though
I think it was more my fault
than his,
my truck was undamaged,
his coupe had scratches
and a dented fender,
so I gave him $200
and said let's not call
the insurance companies,
and he agreed,
but you're likely
thinking
I'm some wealthy SOB
with hundreds in my wallet,
well,
in my own defense,
my bills each month
amount to more than I can pay
and the 200
was intended for
a whore
not
yet
met,
seems like that's the only way
I can get laid these days,
and if you don't understand
or you think that's sad,
well,
you know,
I agree,
but do keep an eye out
for me
when backing up
at the grocery store.

by Paul Hellweg

Failed Suicide

by Paul Hellweg

That should be
the title of
a poetry rag,
seems like
every poet I like
has tried it
at least once,
including me.

Genius

by Paul Hellweg

I almost had an important thought,
but it slipped away
without even saying goodbye,
and as I write these lines
here comes another brilliant notion,
and at least this one has the courtesy
to extend a middle finger
as it whizzes by.

The Other Day

I had too much to drink,
fell,
and couldn't get up,
not that I was
all that drunk,
but I have a broken ankle
and don't get around too well,
especially off the floor,
then the phone rang,
I let it go
to the answering machine,
it was my friend Brit,
and I could hear her say,
"OK, you're not picking up,
I guess
you're just laying around."

Indeed
I was.

Every time I've seen
or talked to her
since,
we laugh
and laugh
about that.

And if you don't get it,
well then,
you need to have
one too many,
lie on the floor
unable to rise,
listening
to your
answering machine,
and if it's a telemarketer
that calls,
then all I can says is
amen,
and better luck
next time.

by Paul Hellweg

The Shits

by Paul Hellweg

Struggling with the beer shits,
four times this morning
already
and it's only 8:48am,
and what sucks
is that I haven't had
a drink all week,
now that's shitty.