The Dead Weather - I Can't Hear You (Studio Version)

Steely Dan - Kid Charlemagne (Live)

of moon spikes and bad radio listings

we stayed up late at someone else's garden party
a quarter to two and I'm thinking
wildly
impressed with the enormity of how small-time is
drinking a 'slow low'
next to the charcoal grill and
sleepy
white blossoms
I pull a nickle and take a drag
of what I like to call
grounded oyster -
'I'll tell you what'
you were the lumpy to my bumpy
under that dern
canoe

oh wow!

how cool it is to be able to fly thru the internet instead of having to crawl on broken glass! i have a new ISP! ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i don't want to leave for work!

crackin' on the magic or

shoot the angel tethered to the grave

and the night presses against the tiny aspen

and the hunter's aim shifts

over shadow

over space


how's that for poetic lace?

a flutter to the bruise?

nah, your words only calm and stradle

thanks. i love you, too.


................






-another time-

forsaken.
on the back of the photo you wrote,
'they never came'.
another rite of passage -
the dark, white
surf, rushes our house by the sea

you ignite
the dangling from within;
this dreamed universe
extended.

I miss you:
ring-of-chandelier, hot-pin
.x.
gravel of sea-chatter
light in-this-s]hell

............

i know you hate indie.
but. this song reminds me of you.

the miles cast slippery bends, up ahead

Nina keeps her eyes on the road
the bangles on her arms;
small silver songs
as innocuous as
the sun in the perfect blue sky
next to her -
he lay like a rock in his blanket
a corpse
the alive
scooped from his whole being
eyes black as a funeral
she hated when he got this way
hated it all
for him
and for herself

are you thirsty

no

your soul may melt into your body's fever

the soul is a river
it flows forever
winds around the stars
like a ribbon

god
you are so
dialed-in

sorry

she tries to smile but it feels shaky
and fake -
she felt like a moon's crater
spread with embalming fluid

slow down
you're speeding

suddenly she hates the metal box
that is his heart
she hates being afraid
she hates feeling alone

-as one-

we land on our sides


azaleas

zig zagging
and
predictable

emptied

from life's little bluffings

scattered
neon
letters

the moon nods
in and out


happiness

does not overcome us


honey
bee

sitting next to a lit lamp
changing numbers
your eyebrows
look like
sequentially
astrophes
[does that make sense?]

apparently

it is the moon's sky
and we are housed
in this poem

a swum-out
script

you and I

the actual where

I don't know

after all

it is night

and

every move

only

shadows

the ceiling

shattering
but

still

I do the dishes
the moon
drifts from a window
to
where the cat sits

and

perhaps

weekend
puh O lease
sirens
as we box more
boxes

marked

with the pale print of our hands