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.
WELCOME.
Dogs bark in the distance, the air is stained yellow. Automatons blink and sqeal. They do not sing.
NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY.
This is not post-industrial bliss.
MUSIC: (Mr. Bungle, “Backstrokin’, Golem II The Bionic Vapour Boy, ARS MORIENDI)