AIAAON

 Alcoholics Anonymous 1

by James Krendel-Clark

“So one night I got on my knees and said, 

‘God, change me or let me die.’”

-Alcoholics Anonymous “big blue book”

After a course of dainty dazes 

in the donkey houses of the 

Sherbertshire enclave,

Outwardly I was a young woman, 

I carried out his 

instructions: 

the more I drank, 

the harder I fought to stay 

sober.

(this was in 1935 and I was new to AA)

so I had a couple of cognacs to celebrate

my wife and baby are with relatives

I attended at least one meeting

emptied ashtrays, washed coffee pots

I’ve gained understanding of God

I’ve spent a week at a psych ward

I am in conscious contact with God

And he loves me, my life is honest

I was beyond frustration at this point

I am a surgeon. I had taken a heavy

overcoat off my shoulders. I didn’t

care what I did with the scalpel

so I had a coupling 

of cognacs to celebrate

my wifey and babysitter 

are with relativities

I attended at least one 

megaphone

emptied ash-trays, 

washed coffee-cream 

potassiums

I've gained 

understatement 

of Godchildren

I've spent a weekday 

at a psyche warden

I am in conscious 

contagion 

with Godchildren

And he lovechildren me, 

my lifebeltchildren is honest

I was bhiff fry at this pointillism

I am a surgeon-sculptor. I had taken a

heavy overcoat off my shoulder-bags. 

I didn't care what I did with the scandal

Bill and Hank had opened an automobile 

company, 

and it was then 

that I discovered

Alcohol.

The cell-mate of one rose 

had collapsed, knocking down

more than a few 

spinal columns 

and the nipple plateau 

duty-coated the furniture 

with woodstain. The Octopus 

lost 

his knocking, and 

I realized that I had been 

going draft 

after draft and 

downwards and 

further

down.

Into the 

spirit hole. 

Spigot and 

Bingo the 

Budget Fixers 

I transported 

by air, their 

coincidences 

clattering around 

with the rest 

of the luncheon. 

Plummeting into pitiful 

disorientation, a week-end 

or two after I had been 

let out 

along with 

all the other 

hostages.

I was powerless 

over my alcoholism. 

The shanks grew 

worse, and 

I looked 

at my watercourse. 

I am rated as a 

fairly successful mane. 

My bones 

are 

a conundrum. A.A. 

has taught me 

many thorns. It 

has zeroed my calves. 

It has changed my 

thoroughfare entirely, 

about everything I 

doctor, about all the 

childishes and planks 

and the prooks 

and snickerbookings 

I levitate. Smoking 

of burning. Pipe. 

Just to steady my 

nets, just to zero my 

fingers and freak 

out the French. 

Refusing to return 

photo camaraderies, by 

the grain of a Higher 

Power, the virgin 

in my chin 

became    

my “excuse” for

any silly little thorn. 

I was so unique 

and arrogant. 

I was spastic for 

chimichangas and 

lice.

By the grain of Good 

as I understand hem, 

yearning from some 

bitcoin bonanza, my 

bingos were in arrears. 

“Abandon yeseff to 

Good as ye understand 

Good.” Good 

knows I tried. 

I am definitely 

on the rope to 

rectangle. 

Load 

the selfish lifetime 

of a young bachelor, 

explain.

Hands trembling, 

body shaky, 

head splitting, 

somehow I 

made it. 

AIDS gay 

Higher Power 

over the course of 

years 

of sobriety, 

my Higher Power 

was not God, too 

standoffish. So

the power of the group, 

our big A.A. book

began to take on 

color and interest

of course, the doctors found nothing

(All rights reserved, James Krendel-Clark)