|
Put not your elbow in the Bible,
As rushing waters of electricity illuminate your keystrokes,
And toiled Toledot spring for Shur through
The central grates and mazes of the downtown mall.
House of sun shone through the stereo,
And 100,000 protons fill the room with memories
Of 100,000 dull tricks you’ve played on me,
Sitar, bounce me to a planet of ice and silver.
I married Miss Swine Time of Climax, Georgia,
And I miss my dead dog.
|
|
Forgive me if I found a way to break a part of you,
You were so strong; I swear it true, before me
What have I done and where are you going
There will be no need to tell me, so save your lips from me
The years will make it better, my heart can promise that
And the tears you shed in that foreign room
Whatever its size, will form for you a bath
Shed me lightly –
Or, scrub me off; please feel my light depart
No more will I cast nighttime shadows
Or feel you in the dark
Just a footnote folded over –
And I can live with that
To say I left a mark’s too much
A smudge, yes, that’s much better
It’s simpler always to deal with that –
Just wipe it away with your pointer and spit.
|
|
Stop coming home to me, baby, please
They’ll say the cowboy rides high on a satisfied mind
So I’ll slurp up the dirt with my ever-shifting teeth
And form hearts on the ground in its shallow brown craters
I know that the wind just keeps taking you further away from me
You’re strung out on independence; yes, that’s fine
I understand how you’d want to turn off
The burglar alarm
And keep the fire alarm on; my smoke won’t pull you in
Like I thought it would – I swear you said something about how…
Oh, I’m a faggot
Bigger than the one you train to be
In forty mile car rides with my shins on fire
Anything for you
Just shoot me in the skull.
|
|
When you’ve become the ice cream,
In that interlocking of foreign horns,
Well, not foreign,
But ones you’ve lost the charms to get close to,
That’s when you know you’re sleeping too much,
You can taste her tongue, and be the tongue,
Not letting you in at the exact same time.
I can feel my forearms rippling now,
Weird waves of water that go nowhere and continue,
Two little blue pills,
And I’m a shuttle being pulled forward and down,
I can’t shut up…
I ditched eloquence for a cigarette.
We all make mistakes and hide them in leaves,
Jagged Canadian maple leaf piles,
Damp and sad with the shit that they hold for you,
And you, clumsy as the day your motor skills awoke,
Scuttle through the week,
Praying for the heaviest, torrential rain,
So you can pack it in,
That didn’t make sense to you, I can see,
But listen,
This is a speed song.
|