Momma Said Never Date Bi-Polar Alcoholic Divorcees - Louis Kahn Nin - ebook

Urban post-postmodern poems from the avant-pop, avant-porn school of iconoclast literature! Louis Kahn Nin does not heed momma's advice and gets involved with members of the opposite sex who drink too much and live hard lives of broken promises and abject failure-lost children, lost dreams, lost hope, lives like the crashed Exxon Valdez that spill the oil of human dreams. Louis Kahn Nin writes about being in the womb, how he got the scar on his chin, the idea of home, his new iPad, and falling in love with Tijuana hookers. The New Traveller's Companion Series offers this excellent, impulsively readable slim volume of verse by one of our best writers in the Olympia stable.

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Table of Contents
The A.A. Wheel
Momma Said Never Date Bi-Polar Alcoholic Divorcees
The Birds
The Blue Jays
The Scar on my Chin
8th Grade
The Finger
The Idea of Home
iPad iPoem
The Wrinkled Dress
The Couch
Baby Bird


Some of these poems first appeared inAnother Fucken Review,Dog Review Review,Elimae, Occasional Review, Taurus, Thunder Sandwichand on



That's as well said, as if I had said it myself.

     —-Jonathan Swift



     When the teachers

     asked me

     in kindergarten

     what I wanted to be

     when I

     grew up,

     I said,



     I've become a fatalist.

      Well, shit, it was inevitable.

The A.A. Wheel

     She said, “I'm going to A.A. now.”

     I know better, I know her,

     she went to A.A. before and didn't like it,

     no friend of Bill's, the 12 steps.

     She says she's going to Alanon just to keep

     family off her ass,

     to make her employer think she's getting help,

     to silence those who say,

     “You need to go into rehab, lass.”

     I know that after whatever meeting she attends,

     she opens a bottle of cheap wine,

     justifying: “I'll only have two glasses

     instead of two bottles.”

     Keep the D.T.s away,

     tomorrow is another day

     to either get it right

     or crawl into a vat, cat,

     get arrested for a DUI, Sly,

     go to jail, do not pass go, yo,

     do not collect $200 but pay

     $2,000 in fines and fees, please.

     It's too much like a Raymond Carver story

     and in another context it would be amusing.

     In this tale, like a glass of flat Pale Ale,

     it's only sad, much like watching a hamster

     on a tread wheel, trying so hard

     to get somewhere

     but not moving a millimeter.


     You are like British Petroleum — causing a lot of damage & pain then pointing fingers everywhere & at everyone

     but you yourself,

     never taking social responsibility for your destruction & (in)action.

      You are like the BP CEO... lying before Congress, oh!

     —never assuming the blame for all the things you spilled & broke.

      You are like BP's oil: ruining nature & beauty w/a choke, w/out a blink or a sigh a look in the eye;

     & the way you lie