Bill Friday

fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet


Chasing Dreams Doodle


I’ve grown


of chasing




will now

be chasing





© Copyright 2014 Bill Friday

Willie and Johnny and a Woman of Questionable Character



I need folk songs cut

from gravel and bone

or the blues

any blues

but the whiny kind

all the too cool kids

sing these days


I need my shirts black

drums thick

fiddles high

and harmonicas

wet and pressed

against lips dried

and cracked

by the spotlight


I need Willie Nelson

and Johnny Cash

played back-to-back

and a woman of

questionable character

crying life into

a microphone last dropped

by that skinny little shit

from the opening act


© Copyright 2014 Bill Friday

Better Looking Than Louis CK

louis ck pain chart


I never had

a groove to lose

let alone

one to get back


Just a bearded man

with a flat ass

not flat abs


Better looking

than Louis CK

and funnier

but not on cue


Plus a fucking

great personality,

when it suits me to


I’m going to

end up alone

in this life


Not because I can’t

pull chicks

but because I can’t

pull the trigger


And because I want

more than I deserve.




© 2014 Bill Friday

Older and Frailer



I avoid thinking about my childhood

Unless someone asks me to tell them

Why I am the way I am

And then I’m forced to

Or I lie


And usually

When I talk about the distant past

I spend that time remembering my dad

Whose influence always finds

Its way to the surface

Of my thoughts

The quickest


He would yell when he got angry

Mutter when he knew he was wrong

And condemn

When warning me against things

That could lead to harm


But as he got older and frailer

With age and a failing heart

He also would

Own up to his yelling


Condemning ways and speak

With genuine contrition


Until the last night I saw him alive

And I knew that he

Loved me more on that night

Than on any day

Which had preceded it



© Copyright 2014 Bill Friday

Closer to Becoming

original art by Tiffany Ashley Truttman

original art by Tiffany Ashley Truttman


I’m sitting cross-legged

on my bed

returning correspondence with friends

on the internet

fucking buck-ass naked

The light from the cresting

August sun makes the

piles of dirty laundry seem

less than it is

Maybe a load tomorrow

maybe not till next week

The coffee isn’t strong enough

but I won’t go downstairs

like this to make more

or get dressed so I can

And now, the two o’clock breeze,

fifteen minutes early

telling me that Autumn is

closer to becoming

than an empty bedroom floor.




© Copyright 2014 Bill Friday

A Freudian Story

Streetlight Moon c Copyright 2013-2014 Bill Friday

Streetlight Moon
c Copyright 2013-2014 Bill Friday


I have three

photographic obsessions

the full moon,

the beach,

and dirty streets

I take pictures of them

with my phone,

8 megapixels at a time, more than

I take pictures of anything

else in the world

And of sunsets,

but only at the beach

If you lumped them

all together,

they tell a Freudian story

one that goes like this

I’m cold and far off

I’m dirty and hard

and the only beauty

I have left is fading


into dark.




© Copyright 2014 Bill Friday

“Two for Moonday”

Two poems, read at the Moonday poetry reading, held at The Little Theater in Los Angeles on Sunday, April 20th, 2014.

They are…


“Clean” (formerly titled “Come Flooding Back”), and “Feet for the Callouses”





My hands smell

like dispensered soap

from the bathroom

inside Starbucks



like the hospital room

where my son died

all those years ago.


Copyright © 2014 Bill Friday


Followed by…


“Feet for the Callouses”


To trade this now

for another

because parts of now

make me sad

to severe an arm

for the birthmark or

feet for the callouses


And deny my senses

for a life of fewer lessons

curse my eyes

for the glasses

or my mouth

for the soap

that washed it out


To not have held

the entirety of love

against my chest then

carried it on feet

that have withstood

the weight of imperfection

but continued forward


And trade the scars

that gave me beauty

in the infinite tomorrow

for an empty past

of losses unremembered

is a cowardice

for fools.


Copyright © 2014 Bill Friday

3 a.m. at Cedars

hospital basement

Robots on the basement floor

at Cedars

stopping in their tracks

like cars

or a Roomba for the cats

three a.m. basement maze

a graveyard

the halls down which

Zombies of mercy shuffle


Copyright © 2014 Bill Friday

Three Heartbeats in Eternity

three heartbeats x2







I spoke to a friend today,

much longer than I had the right to,

and learned that it was okay to just be.

I whined like a goddamned infant child,

and found a place to lay my head.

And for what seemed like

three heartbeats in eternity,

I saw things as they really were.


I spoke to a friend today,

not as long as I would have liked to,

but guilt held onto me.

I felt like a thief,

shoving goodness into pockets full of shit.

I felt worse, then better by the end.

And for what seemed like

three heartbeats in eternity,

I didn’t want to die.


And I kissed my fingers toward heaven.


© 2014 Bill Friday

The Monster






I sit to write

with coffee

at my side

and in my blood

and sleep

the monster of

my waking dreams


warm upon my neck.


© 2014 Bill Friday

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fictionary... 8 megapixel artist... bloody awful poet


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