Wednesday, November 01, 2006


across the surface of things
After eating they took us to their apartment
although we never did get drunk
And as soon as one approaches your stop
and I was to come back this morning
and nobody hearing it could doubt what it sings
and she expected her husband
And the minutes, the hours, the days.
and the song sings the loudest when you pick out each note
at 12:15 am
Babies are still gurgling, bibbed, in high-chairs, cots, lobster pots,
Bloody men are like bloody buses
boy was he burned up
Brodie and I were in the lounge
but it's a song all the same
but we drank more there and pawed around a while
Chronologically, nobody is old.
clean white sheets
Flashing their indicators
how all the pain falls away.
How the country is so much more right you know,
how we’ve landed on our feet.
I am writing on my bed
I don’t know.
if you listen you can hear it
If you make a mistake
if you stand quietly, at the foot of a garden
I'm almost popping
I'm so full of food
in the middle of a street, on the roof of a house
It is Sunday,
it's a wordless song for the most
it's clearest at night
I've spent in months
Jump off and you'll stand there and gaze
Naturally we slept through Brodie's date
Offering you a ride
Only Mattie Schiff and Brad Sheen are old enough
or crawling around floors that taste (if you get close enough) like blankie and breast-milk.
Perhaps I should start at yesterday noon
so Brodie made a date with her friend for 8:00
so crisp and clear,
so we came back to the hotel, ate, abd lay down
Something about how it’s so good to be here,
sprinklers sprinkling,
that the world is like a sharp intake of breath.
The babe I had was married
the city it sings
the low soothing hum of air-conditioners
the sun up slow and easy,
There's no turning back
This has been the damndest day
This is a young street.
to a place inside you
to burst through screen doors and run out, heading for the hoop.
Two or three appear
we had already drunk until our eye-teeeth floated
we invited them to lunch
what a place this joint is
What is she saying?
when the song reaches out
when the sound cuts more sharply
when we spotted two wenches giving us the eye.
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
You haven't much time to decide
You look at them
You wait for about a year
You're tring to read their destinations

No comments: