In Some Sunnier Past
The only leverage anyone has on the back
of the method vibrating in the sudden
sense of markdown is the basic approach:
It's solitude. They wasted their time.
What I'm doing now is calling each dealer
present to us as statues cut into triangles
to stick their hair to the doorways.
That sticks with you for a long time.
They took a sharp turn away from an
environment of split seconds of half time.
Full of raw emotion, from a holy person's body
with a procession, to our bodies sliding
around in the trunk, the crew whistled
most people we talk to don't have a clue
So much authority to offer a sacrifice
so once it happens, it doesn't unhappen
The now-surging world of this chaotic household
behind it, in front of it, trying to crack it
It doesn't take long for the keen desire to ache
after years of oppressive advances in song lyric locales
Small Piece of Outbreak
The laws are simple: murder is not
a crime, you can't refer to women
as "precious," and propaganda has been
deleted from the ten commandments
of nocturnal emission. All that's left are the tests,
which are impossible to pass. You must
choose between life with no sex or sex
with detestable people who smell of Christine.
Sometimes a piece of paper redolent of perfume
destroys every passing thought in the room.
Last Night in the Town House Tavern
In the pooltable room designed by Van Gogh
the accurate presentation of time, like an unspoiled landscape,
clusters at the other end of our long table.
We get the message: other people do not in fact
form any kind of "we" from which we grow funkier.
These old aunts and uncles, like so many on the go,
completely different when the whites in whiteface escape
from the status quo in whiteface in the white actress fable
discovering that whites are one blowback stacked on an artifact.
RT, the proprietor, gives us a tour. I get drunkier.