Sunday, April 04, 2010

(improvising &) burned to the fingertips

(warning: contains strong languages)

sick sounds through the wall hubble

start easy: everyone includin you is stupid
baby you has that skeleton feel today
like the hilltop clock running down to war flutes
(imaGine war as a soft blessing that comes
and comes at night in the snow like Tracey)
oh god I most clapses hear again the voice
Zen in the art of Eostre keep it shut

that door-hacking god-egg harking oof like nothing
was ever wrong where is your mother then?
your mama she decrees disasts (spit advection spread) of the planes
injuns wholly
Joe I gots nowheres even to go but the caves now
me/can you save ha? the pine-poplars not jocules not at all string it out
man-moss all over electric
all over the 3 high winds no you ain't comin in sweet Loretta
but she was an Otherman in your face he waves it
in your face an you all sick an nowhere the thought the sheer thought

no trouble I swear
over and over I promise not
false as high cyclonic winds spreading out
there is always trouble with me

look even when he is not sick
he is still contagious as an elf lighting cars
down the whistling alley we walked away years waiting
(shine baby shine) now no more
the linnet's song of night is stop't
within the little throat


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