Sunday, July 20, 2014

Host of Seraphim - Dead Can Dance

Soft Work

Perhaps the things we do in life
do not add to much
Certainly we try
to make it all pay

We try to be true to our calling
remember our calling is true

But we change
the world changes
even the universe changes

You've changed.
I've changed.

I've decided.
To grow out my hair.

This does not count for much.

I've decided.
To play a game obsessively.
Sometimes until I pass out.

People will not be impressed.

I've decided.
Even though last night.
I threw up when I awoke.

The taste of acid was rough.
My stomach felt better without
its contents.

I'm tired of being a blimp.
Again, this doesn't count for much.

Fat Americans are not something unknown.

The angel descends
to your dresser
and knocks over the blessed virgin
so you know
to obey
your mother

And still you don't.

My car is wrecked.
My life resembles broken glass and splinters

I cling to the supercell
of dark hope and driving rain
and lost wishes and pain

And you.

And further. Away.

I dig.
The ley lines coursing beneath my village.


The evening brings the mosquito
with soft wing
and sharp tongue
and I know I will need to stop him
and so my eyes return.

And now.

And one by one.
I make them pay.

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Jennifer Government

I remember
doing bong hits
on the hill
overlooking the factory
behind the golf course
or maybe it was acid

Maybe nothing at all.
I was sixteen.

It was a quiet night
The stars were out

The running lights of the machines
lit the sky sodium arc lamp
and washed the hillside
with an offshade orange

Everything looked perfect
from far away

Industry, and the night shift
helped everyone to get where they were going
within a socio-technical system
of poetry

Helped along.
By Google and Wikipedia.

I guess I was wondering what it was like to work
Being that I was stoned.

I wondered if it was better than what I was doing
above the loam

I guess now I can imagine
Jennifer Government
Barcode beneath her eye

Do Not Revive.
Across the Heart.

For How much could I sell my entire life?
How much you did you get for yours?

I made it home
Cutting Donuts across the Putting Green

In a beat up car
Through seven shades of teenage gray
And the sodium arc lamp haze

I made a B+ that summer
Even though I got an A.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Number 13, Baby - The Pixies

Because I look so incredibly cool

It suppresses appetite
acting as a mild stimulant

The smoke rises in curls
and helps me to ask.
Where is my mind?

But mostly.
As Woody Allen said.

Because I look so incredibly cool.

Let's get off our white asses.
Or whatever color you ride.

Let's do something worth doing.