casino town open-mic poetry

every tuesday night is casino*town poetry night at the franklin house. we get started around 7pm. musical accompaniment ends at 10pm, but the words will keep coming until we pass out... all of our events are free, but we do love donations to help keep the house running.



life left a methodone clinic in your pocket

i sat across from you, sensing something was different.
you explain how life has abandoned you
left a methadone clinic in your pocket
and a hand to spare change for the beer you clasp.
moments go by in a silence filled with thoughts--
me thinking about the stories your scars would tell.
you thinking about the chance of a fuck,
but more of ending your three days of sobriety.
three months, you say, have gone by without poetry.
of taking an unwanted break
a break from being able to comprehend
a break from feeling everything...
of not enough.
The man with the jack nicholson voice
sat across from me
trying to remember why he was born angelic
and still clutching his forty of pabst.
only temporarily visiting life, before the 15 comes along.
because he has to keep his schedule.
i left him.
i left him digging through his pockets
desperately trying to find a pen or paper
or change for another forty.
but the only thing he found
was that damn methadone clinic.
giving him recollection, not redemption.

--angela franklin (portland 2002)