Was this from the Philly show at the Starlight
Ballroom? Oh, so you’re the asshole
who kept shouting ‘TV PARTY’,
No one even knew what it meant.
Whip the whale, booger. Surrender
your tender body to the crowd. Tear HIM APART
an old timer says unravelling his belt.
Infinite Honey, the guitar squealing
& his head back, REALIZATION
that instead of thinking, doing is adding.
Touch my sculpture, Kiss my mouth. Not to say no
because my brain is the launch pad. I’m born into it.
Still figuring out what’s in all
these beautiful wooden cabinets.
It’s that new joint a guy leans over
& whispers in my ear, it sounds
Like HEAVEN’S BIRDS. It sounds like
how burnt French Toast tastes. All this is allowed.
High school for me was a few bucks
& a pocket of Lah. R.I.P Wandah,
Outside a fifteen-year-old kid
hisses a phrase in red aerosol along the brick.
R.I.P Young Gun. Never sleep boyy,
I’ll meet you in my dreams.
REPRESENT. Bee’s wings. North Dakota.
THIS IS OUR TOWN.
D. Projectors Show, Nov. 2016. The Old Mincemeat Factory
Concerto Muito BOM! The performers kick hard
into the first song. Shambalah! This
is what meditation is. WE E E E
are TIRED of YOUR ABUSE he sings,
underwritten by the shimmer of two
female back-up singers. I REALIZE
IN THIS MOMENT I can collapse the hierarchy
of intelligence. I see some things.
Buck Fuller sees some things. He learns
to speak w/ detail about SPACE,
TIME, DIMENSIONS. Seeing things in different ways.
Not letting them grow higher than the waist.
Of course tend to them. But not to let them
Grow wild. After we leave the gig
my clothes are soaked & everyone crowds
Up onto the streetcar, this one in particular we bought
from an old transit company called
Chicago Transit Authority. green & cream.
Out the window I see the dark lake
and the reflection of the dark lake in the sky.
I grasp my breath to the pinpoint. Steaming windows,
So many warm bodies pressed in here.
HOLD ON says the driver
I’M TAKING YOU ALL HOME.
Scaffold and toy boy
A woman’s neck cuffed
In the embrace of a black scarf.
Before her another she alike
With cuff, scarf and willingness to clinch.
Additional women supine
With scarves as shrouds
And fingers nubile sigils.
This is a procession of sibyls.
There is a noose chiming the hours.
Swinging loose and dim
When the executioner comes.
Quickly stop those who want to shout!
Ankh arriving at the gallows.