Monday, September 29, 2008

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Poems to Music

It was silly
it was jade and transparent and only made
sense just between our bedtime Bible story and our dreams.
But now we can dance, and pull the weeds, and perform for
our aquaintances.
We can fall asleep without saying our prayers.
Our wrinkled grandmothers watch on, silent; withholding. Biscuits in the
morning. The sled is broken.
Here’s what we did. We did.
We prayed our little jade, transparent pearl into the old abondend cistern next door. We blew smoke into the deep frier.
We can cut our own hair now, weave our own sweaters, smile and sneeze in time.
“Bless you” grandmother would’ve said.
“Bless you.”

MUSIC: (Neutral Milk Hotel, “Aeroplane Over the Sea”)

The walls are soaked
peeling and drenched
liquid dust.
“P. Shelley-Receptionist.”

Screams, bones, xylophones.
Take a number. Please sit.
Bloody smiling. Chit chat, WARNING: THE CHAIRS HAVE TEETH.
Sit back, watch The Human Life Show. The grammphone pops-
it’s out of tune nickelodeon wobbles.
Dogs bark in the distance, the air is stained yellow. Automatons blink and sqeal. They do not sing.
This is not post-industrial bliss.
MUSIC: (Mr. Bungle, “Backstrokin’, Golem II The Bionic Vapour Boy, ARS MORIENDI)

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Written As Written

Bathe in milk and bleach, glue your eyebrows to your tail. Shave, repeat.
Vacuum up the nails and wait for the taxi man-
outside of the motel to call your name in whisper... "Alberta..."
Your Wrinkled little withered hands open the wicker berry basket, to
find only another basket, within another basket, within another basket.
20 minutes later, Robin's egg waits patiently on the balcony overlooking the
sea, the tide of taxi cabs blinking flashers; endlessly abyssal.
Smooth, perfect, waiting to be asked when the sun will rise
again, when your extended stay will end,
No vacancy, no shame, no questions remained.