DESCRIPTIONS
(2009 - 2015)
PROSE, part I
Billy Quiet
Billy Quiet decided to change his career one more time. In 2016 when alternative sound channels became available to public for watching any TV program, he proclaimed himself “an exceptional sport event commentator” and got his license the next day after multiple-channel regulation was finalized. His comments were always very sparse, probably because he would comment on the sports he would not even know rules for and, let's face it - he did not care. Almost immediately he drew a large body of audience that seemed to appreciate him not saying predictable phrases and clichés. His most famous line, at the height of his career, was "I think the score just got changed. Please, refer to the electronic board for more details." Then there would be no comment for another 10 minutes, even if the score changed again.
In three years he had no competition whatsoever for he was able to keep his mouth shut so elegantly, consistently and, needless to say, financially successfully. People started talking about his "big one", which would refer to the game during which he'd made no comment at all, not a single one. He, more than anyone else, realized that such game would indicate the end of his spectacularly quiet career.
Billy was not married and he did not have a girlfriend. In his early flurries, he had only one acquaintance - a Chinese chef who lived next door. His name was Chan. Mr. Chan.
Mr. Chan did not care about sports and he had no idea what Billy did for living. It seemed to be fine with both of them. Billy liked Mr. Chan very much because Mr. Chan was not talkative; he was a quiet kind, but quiet in a different way. Mr. Chan's only known expression was "Seattle is big on teriyaki. It's not good, it's just big."
Since nobody really knew how Billy looked, he'd take advantage of loud bars where people would drink a lot and watch the game on huge TV screens. He'd try to find the place inside with a spot (or two, hopefully) available right next to him and pretend that he was watching the game attentively. When a newcomer would appear and take a place next to him and ask in the friendliest way “what's the score?” Billy would answer very quickly, without any hesitation: "5:2", just spitting out random numbers that would not even be applicable to the game.
Billy tried to understand why he kept doing that but was unable to find the answer – this unexplainable behavior, just like his successful career, was a complete mystery for him. “One day I should talk to Mr. Chan about this,” he’d say to himself from time to time but somehow this ‘one day’ never came.
Predictable Spontaneity
Martha turned back to Douglas at the street light and asked calmly from her driving seat, “So there are two of us in the car and you decide to ride in the back. Is this a statement of some sort?”
“Oh, no,” Douglas replied readily. “It's just an attempt to change my life by applying spontaneous actions to pretty much everything I do.”
“Even at work?”
“Especially at work!” he exclaimed not without pride. “And even more so, on my way to and from work.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“Well, I try taking different routes, even if it takes longer. In fact, it always takes longer now. Last week I went across Bay Bridge all the way to Oakland and got stuck in traffic for 2 and a half hours.”
“So what good did it do, really?” she asked with a hint of slight irritation.
“You would not believe it but I found myself close to the place where my old friend lives. I - spontaneously, mind you, drove by and saw him through the front window. I did not even have to call, just waved at him, he let me in and we had a great conversation about life. It's been a while, you know.”
“Hmmm, that's very nice. What happened then?”
“Nothing really, I did not go to work that day, spontaneously.”
Martha looked at him in the rear view mirror, obviously concerned. “Anything else happened that day?” she asked.
Douglas hesitated for a moment.
“Well,” he started slowly, “I meant to talk to you about this.”
Martha looked even more concerned, she started to become nervous and felt an uncomfortable itching on her back. “The thing is,” he continued, “I missed an important meeting that day, a big one. So big and so important that a lot of damage had been done, a lot of money lost. To cut a long story short - they fired me. I no longer have a job.”
Martha slammed on the brakes, almost getting hit by the car behind. “You know what?” she said angrily, turning back to him. “I have a spontaneous decision right now. Get the fuck out of my car.”
Douglas realized, she was not joking. He nodded twice, opened the door and got out. Martha drove away as fast as she possibly could. "Spontaneous asshole," she said aloud. That made her feel better. She stopped the car and backed slowly to the place where Douglas was left. He still was standing there, smiling, thinking that she returned to pick him up.
"Spontaneous asshole!" she yelled at him to his face through the open window, and drove away, this time for good.
Suicide Classes
Things have not been going well for George. At 54, he was looking back at his life as a chain of uncolorful events, relations and transitions from phase X to phase X+1, where the difference between the phases would be only a hopeless number. From time to time he tried to look into the future but saw nothing. Lack of intelligence, education and the intangible quality, for which there is no definite term, have not allowed him to live in the present and simply be happy. Something big and important was permanently missing in his life.
It was no surprise when one fine Saturday morning, in spite of sunny warm spring paradise blooming outside, he started thinking about “getting it over with”. But how? He was not afraid to die, he was afraid to continue living this way. The old way. Sipping his regular ok-tasting coffee and paging through his regular newspaper, he noticed something highly unusual - the title of one ad resonated with him right away, he even raised his left brow a little. "Suicide Classes", the ad read. He started reading and felt as if two or three ants were climbing up his spine, all the way up to the neck.
"Can't take it any longer? Want to get it over with? Come to our classes, it won't take long. 100% satisfaction guaranteed!" At the end there was an e-mail address for response and a link for downloading and filling the form to sign for the classes. That was it.
George put his coffee mug on the table, closed the paper and went to the kitchen to get glass of water. Then he returned to his lonely room, slowly took the paper from the table and re-read the ad. George happened to be computer-illiterate, to be more precise - computer-stupid, but clicking on enclosed file to open and read the form turned out to be easier than he thought. Still, he knew that filling and sending it was beyond his physical ability. However, he noticed a little addition at the bottom of the form, which read: "If computers are too confusing for you, do not get discouraged - just click this blue arrow and we'll deliver the form to you, free of charge". George hesitated for a second and then said aloud to himself: "What's the worst can happen?" and clicked the link.
"Sent" computer said. "Wait," he thought, "how do they know my address?" He finished his coffee and came to the most obvious conclusion: "Whatever. It's all nonsense anyway."
This Saturday promised to be as un-eventful as the last one and the one before so George mechanically paged through the rest of the morning paper - nothing new, nothing interesting. "Nothing ever changes, nothing ever moves..." popped out in his head. "Where was that from?" he thought, "I don't remember now."
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. He was not expecting anybody for there was no one to expect. He opened the door and saw a young courier on roller skates, carrying a delivery bag across his shoulder.
“George?” the delivery guy asked.
“Yes.”
“You ordered the forms, sir. These are for you.” He handed a large yellow envelope, turned around and disappeared in the hallway before George had a chance to open his mouth to say anything.
In the envelope there was a Suicide Classes entry form and a stamped envelope for returning it. There was nothing much else to do so George took the pen and put the form on the table - he was ready.
The first thing that struck him was the fact the there was no field for his last name. His first name was already printed at the top of the form.
"OK," that was all George could say to himself at the moment.
Then things started getting more and more interesting. It was a very unusual form with many questions, most of which surprised and even bewildered him, but he found it very easy to answer all of them. The questions seemed to be random and they were as unpredictable as they were surprising, even shocking at times.
“If you knew that you'd get away with it, or even rewarded for doing so, which contemporary pop-singer would you kill and how?”
Followed by:
“What is your favorite color?”
Or
“Which women are more attractive to you - blonde or brunette?”
Followed by:
“What is your least favorite car brand?”
Another peculiar thing about the form was that it had fairly large fields to fill with answers. Not too large, not too small but quite nice and easy to put the answers in. After finishing the first page George said to himself: "This is the most convenient form I ever had to fill in my entire life."
By the end of second page George realized that he was actually enjoying filling the form.
“What are you more afraid of - heights or deep water?”
Followed by:
“If there was a war and you were drafted, would you choose to serve:
- in the infantry
- in the navy
- on a submarine
- as a bomber pilot
- in a hospital
- in an office
- in a kitchen
- as a prison guard
- as a MP”
By the end of page five George was so involved that he caught himself wishing that this form had 100 pages. Unfortunately, it had only 21. It was as if he was writing a book about himself without any effort. When he was about to finish filling the last page he had to turn his table lamp on.
As soon as he did, he realized that it was the end of the day, almost dinner time. "Wait," he thought. "How is that possible? It's just a form."
When he sealed envelope with completed form, it was dark outside. George decided to mail it right away, even though next day was supposed to be Sunday and the mail would not be picked up. It was warm and quiet on the street. He went to the nearest mail box, dropped the envelope in and looked at the sky. Suddenly, a forgotten feeling re-visited him, something that he had not experienced for a very long while.
"It' a nice evening," he thought.
***
The Suicide Classes office was not big, but not small either. There was not much light inside but the rooms did not feel dark. The secretary with a friendly smile and unusually short skirt met George in the doorway, as if she had been standing there and expecting him for some time. Right away he felt the difference in... what was it? In everything. From the very first moment, George felt attracted to this girl, who did not seem to have any particularly outstanding features but somehow he felt that they had known each other for a long time. "That happens when you meet your soulmate," he thought, knowing that she was not his soulmate, he just could not help feeling the way he did.
After short and somewhat formal introduction, he finally asked, “What is this music? A harp?”
“A harp.”
They stood there and listened to a quietly playing tune through the invisible audio system. A moment or two later she said, “Let me show you the room, you appointment will start shortly.”
The appointment room had a table in the middle, two chairs and an enormous machine by the window, taking almost a third of the space. George sat in the comfortable armchair, pondering what this apparatus was supposed to do, when he realized that the secretary was still in the room. She was looking at him with the expression of an experienced nurse dealing with mental patients.
Just when their eyes met she said, “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please, I'd love some,” George responded readily.
She approached the machine by the window and started making coffee. George kept silent, he just observed the work of the master, admiring her every move, every curve, every sound, every second, catching himself wishing that this coffee-making process would last for 3 hours. Unfortunately, it lasted only 3 minutes, after which a medium size coffee cup was put on the table in front of him.
“Enjoy,” she said in half-whispering voice and gracefully left the room.
George took a first sip. The coffee was perfect. No, it was not perfect - it was beyond what he had expected to be “perfect”. He had no idea what type of a drink it was, how it was made and "...Wait," he said to himself. "I did not even ask for anything specific, besides..."
The door opened and a tall man entered the room. He was wearing black suit and black shirt with... well, he was dressed in black. He was very skinny and his face was unusually pale.
“Hello, George. I am Anton.”
“Hello.”
They shook hands.
It is possible to tell many things about a man after a first hand shake: confident, not confident, strong, not so strong, weak, polite, impolite, formal, informal, indifferent, friendly, patient, inpatient... George did not feel anything. He just stood there, hands down, and stared at Anton, who was staring back at George, without moving a single muscle on his face. They stood like this, staring at each other, face-to-face, for at least five minutes, maybe longer. Somehow George did not feel any discomfort even though the situation seemed to be highly irregular. "Is he alive?" George's thoughts were linear and clear, as never before. "What and Who is he?"
“Please, sit down,” finally said Anton, pointing to the arm-chair where George was sitting before.
“Our first session will be very short,” he continued. “There will be three more sessions, all involve other people, 9 participants in the group. I will be conducting all the sessions and asking some simple questions but most of the talking will be done by our clients, like yourself. Our success rate is 100%, after the third session we are done. That is all for now, I'll see you the day after tomorrow at 9am.”
Anton stood up very quickly, shook Gorge’s hand and left the room before George had a chance to open his mouth. George looked at the table and saw his unfinished coffee. He looked at the coffee machine by the window, then at his cup again, stood up and left the room.
***
George was so overwhelmed by the recent events, that suicidal thoughts simply did not have room in his head any longer. After what happened, he did not know what to expect, so when he entered a larger room for the first group meeting, he thought he was ready for anything. Little did he know that he was completely un-prepared for what was to come.
There were five men and four women in the group. Anton pointed to every each of them where to sit in the circle of nine armchairs, while he himself was outside the circle, walking slowly to and fro. The session, in a strange way, was similar to filling the 21-page form: Anton was asking simple and direct questions, pointing to a person for an answer. Sometimes he would ask the same question again, pointing at another person. The questions-answers chain seemed to be so well connected between all nine participants, that everybody seemed to be engaged at every moment, every second.
The session ended very abruptly, Anton left the room quickly and everyone realized that it was the end of the day, it was almost dark outside. George was not tired or hungry and somehow he did not feel like talking to anyone in the group. He quickly glanced around and saw that everyone felt the same way. They parted silently, without saying good night to earth other, or going through any other usual formalities.
***
“OK, pal! It's time to come clean!” the man in a gray suit said in an unusually loud voice.
Anton stood up from his desk, “Gentlemen?”
“I am inspector Gloom,” the man in a gray suit continued, “and this is my partner, inspector Polansky.” He casually pointed at a man by his side, who barely touched to edge of his hat, not uttering a word or taking his hat off.
“How can I help you?” asked Anton, looking straight in inspector's eye.
“You can help us by providing all paper work concerning your enterprise here. Judge Fergusson is extremely interested in your endeavors!” the inspector threw a sheet of paper on the table and looked around, theatrically showing that he was examining every corner. Anton knew exactly what the document on the table was.
“All right,” he responded. “Give me a minute. Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” Anton turned and reached for the folder on his desk.
Fifteen minutes later, utterly confused, inspector Gloom finally said:
“Sir, according to this, not a single employee of your office ever had a vacation, just a few days off over several years! How is that possible?”
“We are dedicated to our work. Is this illegal?”
“Oh no, of course not! One more question,” he kept raising his deep loud voice, almost screaming at the end of each sentence. “According to your tax records, all your customers have been reimbursed, these are phone numbers to reach all of them, and there has been no income from your activity whatsoever! What kind of business is this?! What the hell do you do here, sir?”
“We are saving lives, inspector.” Anton replied quietly and smiled with his eyes without moving a single muscle on his very pale face.
SHORTIES
Junk
She’s like, “Dude!”
And I’m like, “Huh?”
And she’s like, “Whatever.”
Edward Dimmer Jr., D. D. S.
The lights in his dental office are never too bright. He has a staff of three: a quiet Japanese cleaning guy and an African-American assistant who has nothing subtle in her work. Mr. Dimmer is no subtle dentist either, he just makes sure his work is done properly. Teeth don't speak to each other. His assistant was not bright at all, which was fine with Mr. Dimmer. Her skin was so dark, that on it you almost could see reflections from the Royal Palace Endeavor Hotel neon sign across the street.
Mountain Tam
We are going to Mountain Tam today. "Tam" in Russian means "over there". So does this mean that once we get there we still will be 'tam' and because of the darn term, we'll never be “here” while we are there? In short, we'll be here only after returning from Mountain Tam.
International agreements
"It's all good," said Mahmud.
"It's OK," said McKay.
Timing
Timing is everything. Sometimes.
How to Get Your Head Back
Lay down, close your eyes and pretend you are not you. If you can maintain this for 20 minutes you'll have your head back.
Teacher's Name
My teacher's name in the first grade at school was Nicholas Babysitter. He was never married.
Words Behind the Bush
- Mr. President, it was a wrong button!!!
- Oops, sorry about that, folks - my bad. Can we undo this?
- No, sir. Mongolia is gone.
Notes
Note to my employer:
In my sea of misfortunes this year your $200 bonus check seemed like a drop in the ocean.
Note to myself:
“Take Girard St. when you dober.”
Attachment
I'm not attached. I'm not attached. I'm not attached... Now I'm attached to the notion of not being attached.
Pacific Place
At the peak of boardomness and irritation by the situation in his apartment building he programmed a hologram in the only elevator this building had, which would appear suddenly out of the blue (or should I say 'out of the dark'):
"Dear neighbors,
I pick up your trash in the hallways and staircases all the time. It's not cool. If you are unable to respect yourself, respect your neighbors.
Sincerely,
Your neighbor."
Each person living on the building got to see the message.
He was pleased with his programming efforts and he was sure that his message would make an impact on the community.
It did not. Nothing changed.
CLOUDS OF POETRY
Birthday, 45
I don't feel very social today
Sunny and warm
Only outside
I don't feel very social today
Groups of people gathered together
Divided by mutual interests
Joyless laughter well-rehearsed and protected
I don't feel very social today
“Why didn't you join us?” they asked
“I don't feel very social today,” my eyes answered
Then I heard my own voice:
“I'm used to being alone on my 45th Birthday.”
Gutten Morgen Blues
Woke up in a cold, dark, very clean room one morning
Didn't remember much. In fact, didn't remember anything at all
Couldn't find the exit or entrance, could not find the door
Touched a metal plate, read the label with my fingers: THE MORGUE
Gutten Morgen
Gutten tak
How can this be? It is not fair! Why me?!
Someone must know what happened, what's going on
Wrapped my body in the clean white sheet - that's all you got (for now).
Breathing in and out
Morning morgue air.
Gutten Morgen
Gutten tak
Empty hallway, lonely nurse, table lamp
"Excuse me, can I make a call? It's very important."
Approving nod, emotionless
"Good morning, Mother!
It's me, I'm all right, I'm here!
...Mom?... Mom?! Mom?!!!... Hello?”
Gutten Morgen
Gutten tak
In My Dungeon
In my dungeon again
Protected fortress
(protected from what?)
With a closed door
Closed but never locked
Every morning
Smell of coffee
Smell of another perfectly wasted day
Officially approved by society free of burdens like
Morality
Fear of God
Unconditional Love
There are useless items in the utility room always available
Somehow whatever you are looking for is not there
Do you dare to ask why?
It is not difficult to be alone in a big city
It’s easy to get lost
Anywhere
Any time
Even if you are not alone
Noises of coffee shops calm you down temporarily
Then everything returns to where it has always been
To safe insecure dungeon
With a closed, unlocked door
Intoxication
In-toxication…
De-toxication…
The smells unexpected
Reactions inadequate
Spinning
Rolling
Spiraling over
and over
and over…
Awaken by the self-sleep
Frightened by a variety of invisible variables
Sometimes it takes time
To take time
“Take your time,” she said,
“And don’t forget to exhale
After breathing in too much
Of your own life”
Rain in Chicago
Rain in Chicago.
Sunday is hiding in between holidays, slow, unromantically dreamy.
Visiting unknown places has advantages that reveal themselves unexpectedly, one-by-one, as time goes by. Pseudo-comforting sounds from the TV set in the next room create pseudo-sensation of stability and peace. I don't have a TV.
Wherever I go there is noise, a stream of never-ending sounds from various sources - hopeless noise pollution penetrating humans over and over. The vast majority do not even know that they are being bombarded every minute, every second, and there is no protection, no cure. I wish there was an anti-sonic shower, which would clear off all audio dirt from my memory.
The Fall
Things fall down
Leaves
Water
Hail
Hair
Some stay where landed
Some dry out
Some disappear
Without a trace
Face
In the mirror
Ever-changing sameness
Same immediate reaction
Adjusting muscles as soon as looking
Straight into reflection
Connection with oneself established
Self-protecting instinct
Pretending that you like what you see
The sea
Of items
Fallen from above
Added to the archive
Of forgotten memories
PROSE, part II
MRI
The operator pulled me out of the tube. Surprised, I looked at him and asked:
“What happened?”
“Nothing, we’re done.”
“I need to get back there.”
“Pardon me?”
“I said I want to get back there now!”
“But sir, we are finished.”
“I understand that, but I need to get back in the tube.”
He looked at his shoes, then at me, then at his shoes again and asked very slowly without raising his head:
“And why in the world do you want to do that?”
“I have my reasons… Listen, I can pay you.”
“How much?"
“How much do you think it’s worth?”
He shrugged:
“75?”
“40.”
“60.”
“50.”
“Deal. I have another patient coming in ten minutes but I can find time for you tonight. How does 9:45pm sound – can you make it?”
“Absolutely!”
I smiled and shook his feeble hand.
Laugh Collector
I was going through my old typed notes one day and the first ones I found stated:
"Note to myself: take Girard St. when you dober"
So, I followed the note’s advice. It’s 8:45, I am on Girard Street, walking slowly. After passing the window with a sign “Double Whammy Weight & Memory Loss Services”, I saw what looked like a bar or a club. The name of the band immediately attracted my attention, it almost jumped at me from the poster, unevenly placed on a brick wall: Laugh Collector. I opened the unpainted heavy squeaky door and entered the club.
The band was about to start playing but I had enough time to find little table in the back corner and order a glass of Shiraz. It was a small quiet place, no background music, no ambient noise. The room was quite full but not overcrowded. I noticed, there was no area designated for crowd in front of the stage. Almost everything about this place was unusual but not in an obvious way. I casually looked at the small menu with just a few items. On the top of the menu there was a name of the place – “Karmic Obligation”. My left eyebrow went up involuntarily.
“That’s pretty cool,” I heard a voice, very close to me. “I can do this with my right eyebrow, but not with left one”. The girl at the table next to mine was playing with her right eyebrow, moving it easily up and down. “Can you do your right one?” she quickly asked. I tried and learned that I could not control it. “See,” she exclaimed, smiling. “But,” she continued, “if you raise your left and I raise my right, we’ll have two raised eyebrows and the big picture will be complete!”
I finally answered “…and if we each raise both, we’ll have four eyebrows up, imagine that!” She smirked, “Math was not your favorite subject at school, was it?” A thought came to my mind that this was so far the oddest conversation I ever had in my entire life. I heard myself say “This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had in my life… so far.” “Oh, it’s nothing,” she shrugged. “You are just fulfilling your karmic obligation”.
Absentmindedly, I looked at the menu on the table. The first item was ‘White bears in Tajikistan’, the next one – ‘Six month old Christmas pie’. Both of my eye brows jumped up. I started losing it: “What kind of place is this, anyway, that serves…” “Hey!!!” she interrupted me, almost screaming. In the corner of my eye I saw a few heads turning our direction. “You want your macaroni and cheese or a burger, go two blocks down to Red Jack! You want lose weight, go next door tomorrow morning, they open at 9. The Universe had been spitting the signs at you left and right today and you still are as stiff as your notes to yourself from last year! Maybe you should come here when you are not dober!!!” she was breathing heavily, almost angrily but I did not sense anger from her. “Wait,” I said after a brief hesitation. “How did you…?” I was interrupted by a calm quiet voice. A man in dark suit was standing close to me, nearly touching my table with his hand, his point finger slightly stretched my way. “Sir, please accept our apologies. Perhaps you can come back the other day, and do not worry about paying for your wine – it’s on the house.”
My head was spinning, I don’t remember how I got outside. Even though it was still early evening, when I returned home I went straight to bed.
***
Next morning, as I woke up, my first thought was “Yes, I am overweight! I probably should do what that girl said yesterday.” That girl… I did not even know her name. What happened to me last night, anyway?
“Good morning!” A young man in unusual green uniform smiled at me in a most friendly way. “What can I do for you today?”
“I’d like to lose some weight,” I answered and smiled back at him, rather formally.
“Well, you are in the right place, my friend!” exclaimed the man without changing his facial expression. “Welcome to Double-Whammy! Have you been here before?”
I pondered for a second: “I don’t really remember.”
“Ha! Then you are in the right place indeed!” he started rubbing his hands, which made me very uncomfortable.
I stopped smiling and said: “Look, what I really want is to understand what kind of place you have here next door and what it’s all about. Can you help me?”
“Oh, I see,” he did not seem surprised at all. “Tell you what,” he continued. “Why won’t you come tonight, my band is playing! It’ll be fun!”
“What’s you band’s name?” I asked, bewildered.
“Slugs,” he answered, hardly holding back his excitement. Out of nowhere he suddenly produced a large colored poster. On it was a hand-painted creature, the top looked like a mollusk without a shell. The lower half looked like a damaged bullet - a slug, as they call it in movies. I was staring at a poster in a state of complete hopeless stupor. At the bottom there was a line written by hand with a black fading sharpie: “only tonite at Karmic Obligation, it’s OK to be late.” I looked at his face – he was still smiling, as if the smile was glued to him with really strong glue. Crazy Glue.
“I’ll be there,” I said and turned to leave, my head spinning again.
***
The Slugs’ performance was bad. Apparently, all the musicians in the band knew it but they loved their music and enjoyed being on stage, unsuccessfully trying to recycle someone else's bliss. A leather-jacketed unshaved male at the bar turned from his Budweiser to me and asked abruptly: “Are you going to stick around longer? My band is playing next.”
A little surprised, I asked back: “Really? What’s your band's name?”
“Virtual-virtual.”
I smiled involuntarily: “This name is horrible-horrible!”
Then there was darkness.
***
When I opened my eyes everything was white, including a person next to me. She was a white woman in white clothes, attentively looking at some white papers, motionless.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“In the hospital,” she answered without turning to me, not a hint of emotion. “You seemed to have fallen from a ladder.”
I slightly tilted my head: “A virtual ladder?”
She looked at me and quietly examined my face for a few moments with her cold uncolored eyes and finally said: “You should be glad that your nose is not broken. You may not be so lucky next time.” She turned around and slowly left the ward.
Stories from Texas
Free Beer
Her name was Allison - friendly, cute, wearing large-frame glasses.
"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked, smiling.
"Oh, yes, one of these, please," I pointed at the "Free beer tomorrow" sign on the wall.
"Mmm, sorry sir, but it's only for tomorrow."
"I understand, but I was here yesterday, so..."
There was a long awkward pause, no response from Allison.
Finally, I broke the silence:
"Listen, we are moving to Indiana soon and... are there ANY exceptions here whatsoever?"
She smiled her friendly smile again and said "No, sir. None."
Good bye, Houston.
Nameless Road
We stood at this stop light forever, it was our first time when we came for a visit. Later on, after passing through this intersection maybe more than 100 times, I noticed that no cars would ever come out of Nameless Road, or would turn onto it. And yet, it was the longest red light in Travis County, Texas. After observing this strange phenomenon for many months, I finally asked myself a very direct simple question: "what the f$*^?"
Well, it's been a very long time since all this happened but I still do not have the answer.
Bootleggers Bar and Grill
I stopped by a hidden place on West Road in Houston with a big white paper sign, torn at one corner - Bootleggers Bar and Grill. Lunch seemed like a good idea so why not here, I thought. It was dark and smoky inside, a big bar, one and only one customer sitting next to the bartender, smoking a cigarette, having his second, perhaps, beer.
"Do you have food?" I asked.
"No, sorry," the bartender responded. "We have pretzels! Want some?"
"No, thank you," I said as politely and warmly as I possibly could. But she got upset anyway. After a longish pause I finally asked: "So if you don't have food, how come the place is called 'Bar and Grill'?”
"Oh, we have a grill," she said quickly. "It's just unused."
Houston-Austin
The sky was high over the Shepherd Creek Bridge. High and big, as always, as everywhere in Texas. Bloody raccoon was sleeping on the side of the road, I barely looked at him, just pressed the accelerator pedal a little harder than usual.
“Do you know how fast you were going, sir?”
I kept looking at his uniform, smiling stupidly and admiring the shining of the metal elements on his jacket.
“I asked you a question, sir,” he seemed to start losing his patience.
“Oh, yeah, sorry – I was just… Yes, it was 70 miles per hour,” I finally responded.
“That is correct, exactly 70 miles. So is the speed limit around here.”
I looked at my dash board and back at the officer again. His shiny mirror-like impeccably clean sun glasses made me feel uncomfortable, perhaps because I could see myself so well in their reflection.
All of a sudden I heard myself say:
“Could you please take your glasses off?”
He raised his head a little and slowly took his glasses off.
“You look tired,” I said.
He took a long pause and said: “You didn’t shave today, did you?” as if he was trying to get back at me for some reason.
“No, I did not,” I replied. “I’m on vacation.”
“I see…”
This conversation clearly was not going anywhere and both of us realized that, from the very beginning. It felt that there was no easy way out, for either of us.
“You have Arizona plates,” he said after several long silent seconds. “Where are you coming from?”
“Oh, I’m coming from Houston, it’s just a rental, I guess it has Arizona plates… I have all the papers if you…” he waved interruptingly, clearly indicating that he was not interested in getting into that kind of detail.
“Drive safely,” he finally said and put his glasses on, turned around and started walking toward his vehicle. He walked very slowly.
“Officer!” I yelled at him through my open window.
He turned around and looked back at me through his impeccably clean shiny mirror-like glasses.
“Have a great day and… thank you.”
“Thank you for what?” he asked back without much of identifiable expression.
I hesitated for a moment and shrugged: “just for doing your job and for the conversation.”
He took his glasses off, looked at me briefly and nodded ever so slightly, then put the glasses back on, got into his car and drove away.
Stories from Indiana
Making up Words
Chief editor seemed to be friendly but in a somewhat reserved way. His dark suit was not old but it was not new either. His glasses, hair, gestures, – nothing was particularly special or unique. If he ever committed a crime and a witness was asked to describe him, police would get no description – there was nothing to describe.
“We are small publishing company, you see,” he started reluctantly. “And we are definitely interested but I have a few questions for you.”
“Of course,” I answered, not at all surprised.
“In one of your early pieces you wrote ‘Intoxication… Detoxication…’ Well, there is no such word as Detoxication, the proper word is Detoxification. Were you aware of it?”
“Yes, I was,” I said calmly. “But what’s the problem?”
“Well, you cannot just make up words while there are proper terms already in existence.”
“Yes, I can,” I answered a little more firmly. “Detoxification sounds horrible in this context. Besides, it’s absolutely clear what it means. I invent new words all the time.”
“Really?” he seemed genuinely surprised. “Can you make an example?”
“Sure. ‘Your comment sounds muffy and unintelectu-arizing.’”
There was a long pause. I waited because I really had nothing more to say.
“Muffy, huh?” he finally asked.
“Yes, muffy,” I nodded in doubtless confirmation.
“Well, in this case I don’t think your work and our agency are a good match, but thank you for dropping by.” He stood up, rather abruptly.
“Thank you for your time.”
I turned and headed toward the exit. As soon as I touched the door handle, I heard his voice behind: “Wait. On a second thought, you are a young talented author and we might be rejecting something really valuable here. That would not be wise, would it?”
I hesitated. “At this point, I really would not know,” I replied, still holding the door handle. It was cold. “I respectfully decline your generous offer but thank you for your consideration.”
“But why?” he almost screamed.
“Because it would be inappropri-eatable.”
Carter
(a story from real life, dedicated to Joan and her household)
This morning at sharp 8 o'clock I felt the presence. There was no sound, no noise, no movement, just presence. I looked down and I saw a pair of eyes staring at me, right into my recently awakened soul. Carter.
I closed my eyes, sinfully pretending to still be asleep. A second later I opened my eyes, “who am I kidding? OK, give me a minute."
"Took-tu-doom-tu-doom..." quickly down the stairs I heard - HE was taking me to the morning walk, a magnificent manipulator.
As usual, I let him lead the way. This time he went West, toward the big road and then down the pathway around Cambridge Square. Almost right away we saw two rabbits. One of them ran away immediately but the other one, the younger fella, had more curiosity in him and it was probably smarter because it felt that there was not much real danger in the current situation. In fact, this little bunny would not get off the pathway, he'd continue to run ahead of us and, with Carter chasing it, seemed that those two had some kind of chemistry. Finally, the rabbit just stopped. Carter got as close as 2-3 meters to it but the bunny simply stayed there, looking back at us.
Carter had enough of slack on his leash but he would not get any closer. After a moment of awkward silence, Carter said to the rabbit:
"Why are you not running away?"
Rabbit: "why should I?"
Carter: "because I'm a dog, and you are a rabbit."
Rabbit: "so?"
A long pause followed. The rabbit looked away for a moment, then looked back, getting slightly annoyed. Finally, Carter broke the silence and begged with his eyes:
"Can you just run away, for God's sake?"
After a minute of hesitation rabbit said: "hmm, ok". Then he slowly turned and disappeared into the bushes. The dog's dignity was saved! Sort of.
When curving around Cambridge Square, I saw two cats by the door of one of gloomy-looking one-story apartment. The cats were very furry, one dark brown, one dark gray, sitting like ancient Sphinx, symmetrically, protecting the house hold from passing-by Russians and dogs. Carter did not notice them so we peacefully went on.
Then we met an old lady. She was walking the opposite way with a white fluffy dog, two times smaller than Carter, and while they (dogs) were sniffing each other, the old lady said: "I didn’t know they can walk sideways!"
A few steps later we saw four cats by another apartment door. They all were black - Black was their color. All got slightly weary about the dog, naturally. Carter noticed them and there was a moment of somewhat-intense tension. We were only about ten feet away and cats were ready to attack! I could tell, they were a mean bunch. Carter looked at me without much of identifiable expression. I shrugged: 'let's just move on'. He didn’t object, the cats stayed where they were and we were about to complete our 45-minute exercise of patience, observance and dignity testing.
When I am here, Carter hangs out downstairs with me, sometimes leaning on my lap. I tried taking a picture but... do you know how hard it is to take a picture of a dog while he is sitting on your lap? You should try it one day - I had no success at all. Instead, I decided to write a story about a Sunday morning walk with the best dog in the entire universe.
Carter.
***
FOUR
FOUR is a collection of original lyrics by songwriters of San Francisco – bands and projects I recorded, mixed and played guitar with between 1994 and 2014.
Compiled and edited by Konstantine Baranov
Bloomington, Indiana
March 23, 2020
Belinda Blair
The Earthlings, Life Copies Movies
Blue Paint
I hear the same jokes everyday
Everything is reassuringly bland
I hear the same complaints everyday
Everything is reassuringly canned
I can see the grime on the back of my hands
I read my palms for cues
I could back-pedal in the middle of a void
Or I could read the news
I could make something out of nothing at all
And make up a reason, too
Oh, the sky is the ceiling of
Blue paint
The sky is peeling
Blue paint
Even the rain clouds are bored to tears
With nowhere to go in a hurry to get there
One ray of hope won't interfere
With a humdrum life in an ongoing nightmare
I can hear the noise from the neighbor above
Paper my walls with words
I can feel the rug pulled from under my feet
From something I might have heard
I could make something out of nothing at all
And make that the reason hurts
Oh, the sky is the ceiling of
Blue paint
The sky is peeling
Blue paint
One ray of hope won't interfere
With a humdrum life in an ongoing nightmare
Even the rain clouds are bored to tears
With nowhere to go in a hurry to get there
Oh, the sky is the ceiling of
Blue paint
The sky is peeling
Blue paint
Life Copies Movies
You cook steak while the dogs play
I get tan by the poolside
Heard a noise but it’s too late
House explodes, been a long day
Our eyes shoot roving long shots
Pan make-up makes us perfect
Skit-blocking ties us in knots
We’re acting for the Oscars
Life Copies Movies
I play the girl that I want you to see
After wardrobe and make-up
Say the lines as if they were from me
There’s no reason to wake up
Life Copies Movies
Monster in My Room
There's a monster in my room on a 10-foot tv screen
It's a mean life-size cartoon from every man's worst dream
She's a girl I'm supposed to play, matching outfits, matching ovaries
But she's from yesterday and I don't fit the part
I've won this mighty script from Hollywood's top-talent teams
But their imaginations slipped on a crutch and a glib cliché
Make a girl automaton with perfect cookie-cut responses
You can wave your magic wand and I'll disappear
Just as the earth
Opened-up its mouth
I changed my clothes
And then I drove South
Monster in my room try to play your dirty game
Monster in my room box me in your tiny frame
Telephone's gone dead from all the calls I never made
And the bed has just un-spread from the weight of a guilty sleep
I can try to shut you out but you're on every single channel
How did you get so much clout, I haven't a chance
Just as the earth
Opened-up its mouth
I changed my tune
And then I gone South
Monster in my room try to play your dirty game
Monster in my room box me in your tiny frame
Monster in my room
You can't play your dirty game
Flowered Past
An old man sits by the window late at night
There are dirty books in the shopping bags under his sink
He watches his pink lemonade tremble
Inside a moonlit glass, he watches the flowered past
Outside the mud-streaked window
Blue stars kick off their shoes
Outside there is a party
Where no one wants to lose
A girl and boy waltz around the room
Pieces of night are peeling off the walls
Her lips move, the words float by
His memory fades, he stands and he starts to cry
Outside the mud-streaked window
Blue stars kick off their shoes
Outside there is a party
Where no one wants to lose
Aliens Came from Outer Space
Aliens came from outer space
Underneath the tiles of the public ladies’ rooms
Aliens came from outer space
Their saliva is made of the tears you’ve hidden away
Aliens came from outer space
They wear ponchos to hide all their tentacles
Aliens came from outer space
They’re not temperamental and perfectly sane
But there’s a black hole in their hearts
They would have never believed
Humans could ever live like this
Humans could live like this
Aliens came from outer space
They see miles and miles of a tangled network of nerves
They are waterproof
And almost never breakdown
They have a different solar system
They would have never believed
Humans could ever live like this
Humans live like this
Bride and Groom in Cellophane
This bride and groom in cellophane
Wrapped candy white one fateful day
Perched upon a ring of sugar and frosting
Supported in a sling of plastic and cake
They’re starring in their honeymoon
Deep inside the month of June
Come home to play, she packs a gun
He runs away, you weren’t the only one
Come home again, he needs a drink
He finds her heart in the kitchen sink
This bride and groom in cellophane
Wrapped candy white one fateful day
They’re starring in their honeymoon
Deep inside the month of June
Android in Polyester
He’s an android in polyester
He’s an android, he’s not a digester
He’s a man on his own, he’s got no ancestors
Just an android in polyester
He’s a robot walking down the lane
Exhaust flows right through him
He feels no pain
He’s a robot in camouflage
He’s a microchip, wire and metal collage
He’s an android, no time for reflection
Everything in its place, no imperfection
Nothing eating him up inside
Nothing to fester
Just an android in polyester
Has no baggage or history, he’s got no roots
Gives no moral support, he only computes
Never gets bent out of shape, he keeps his cool
And when he gets bored, he counts molecules
He’s an android, he makes no assumptions
Listens perfectly well with no interruptions
He’s an android, no sexual attraction
No burning desire, his heart is in traction
He’s an android in polyester
Underwater
Spend your time half awake
Spend the rest half dead
When you spent your time being strong
It all went to your head
Underwater
Sticks and stones can't break my bones underwater
Underwater
I can keep my fisheye view underwater
I heard my alarm clock
Screaming out in pain
I couldn't find myself
So I went to sleep again
Floating down
Like a feather
Underwater
Sticks and stones can't break my bones underwater
Underwater
I can keep my fisheye view underwater
Fat Substitute
Fat substitutes are raining down
Into your pump-inflatable shoes
Sound bites are spinning in your head
From watching too much tv news
They've paved a road right through your head
Fat windshield tourists are born and bred
Globular clusters float nearby
In cold black interstellar space
The earth keeps on spinning in the void
But there's no vacancy to trace
They've dammed the rivers leading to free thought
Drowned underwater the like that you lead
Girl Like That
Perspiration drips off of her hands
How she moves her hips, where she stands
She has discipline over her clothes
Why she drinks so much no one knows
Fingertips her glass, jokes with the boys
She seems to slide right by on social poise
She plays her part quite well to show she’s strong
But there’s a private hell where she belongs
With a girl like that
She’ll put on a brand-new face
With every new parade
And a girl like that escapes
Underneath her bed
Just to keep her head
Clear
She says she’s serious, she has a plan
But she’s delirious around a man
She loses confidence when she’s alone
She’s on the lookout for the perfect
Chaperone
She rushes from her townhouse flat
Never knows when she’s coming back
She looks in the rearview mirror
Hoping she can avoid the terror
Look of Cool
Now’s the time I want to reach
Up through my spine a feeling starts to creep
It moves my arms in such a way
Then I pull back
I don’t know how
You might take these arms
I’m not sure about my face
What you think it might be saying
I don’t know how you might take these arms
I don’t know how you might take these thoughts
So, I’m gonna keep this
Look of cool
I feel tension in my mouth
Just to send out a message
Or let out a sign
The muscles tense, sticks in my throat
The brain works too hard to keep this
Look of cool
And you pretend not to notice
Your lack of taking any action
Makes me self-conscious
The eyes don’t know where to look
Sometimes these eyes betray this look of cool
Look of cool
In My Human Head
My right hand doesn’t know what my left hand’s doing now
Only soccer ball molecules can keep that kind of secret
Twist my arm, split my hairs over the finger-pointing wrongs
Leave me floating in a vat of unconscious dynamite
Ghosts still walk, they shout and holler
Hold the leash, I’ll wear the collar
Thoughts can’t change, words can’t say
All the dirt I’ve kept at bay
In my human head
Subliminal dragons are breathing a fire I can’t see
In my human head
I’m climbing a Chinese Wall, it’s bigger than me
My train of thought is tumbling down upon a staircase illusion
With a slip of a tongue, I don’t know which way I’ll fall
The rods and cones are clouding up with an involuntary force
Pondering on the ultimate nature of you
Take my chance when night snaps shut
Open eyes to who knows what
Talk to me in haunting refrains
Sit me down and drive me insane
In my human head
Subliminal dragons are breathing a fire I can’t see
In my human head
I’m climbing a Chinese Wall, it’s bigger than me
Living in Your TV
I’m not real
But you might feel that I am someone
You would like to be
You’ve seen me living in your tv
Hand me your cash
I’ll sell you entry for a price
With a hand and a shake
Here’s your plastic paradise
I’m under your skin
You will buy me again and again
I’m a walking lie
For people who don’t know their minds
You’re desperate and blind
I’m a product you mustn’t leave behind
Here’s Mr. Clean
With a super-sonic mentholated dream
I’m under your skin
You will buy me again and again and again
Living in your tv
Living in your head
Nothing Is My Friend
Pick myself up off the back of those
Monkey wrenching tears you cried
For all those psycho-drama queens
Parading down the halls
For all the schools you never went to
And all the shopping malls
Brown paper bag on my head
Hiding all the obscene thoughts
That keep jumping out of bed
Jet stream air blows at my back
With a mouthful of hair-brained ideas
Get caught in the doorway
But nothing can rise to the occasion
Nothing can take off all these spots
Nothing can ever make sense
Nothing is my friend
All eyes are on me, trying to pay attention
All eyes are on you, trying to find why
Scrape myself off that sunset
That’s taking me down
To the place that I can dream of
It’s taking me down
But somehow I know if I just let go
I might just meet the ground
But nothing can rise to the occasion
Nothing can take off all these spots
Nothing can ever make sense again
Nothing is my friend
All eyes are on me, trying to pay attention
All eyes are on you, trying to find why
You can see through things
They’ll turn on the blue light
You can see through all of the walls
Trying to find why
One Great Love
Bring a hammer down on my head
For all the self-defeating words I’ve said
Punch a fist deep in my gut
For a lifetime of worrying ‘bout who knows what
Kick bruises in both of my shins
For the multitudes of recurring sins
Sink in your teeth and scratch out my eyes
For all the thievery and well-meaning lies
Say all the things that I’ll never say
Pack up your things and take them away
Jump up and down and pound on the door
And make me wonder what you’re doing it for
Softly stroke my hair for all the times I really cared
Brush a hand across my cheek
For all the good deeds I did this week
Give me a great big kiss
For when I managed to miss you
Miss you
There are no answers
There is no hope, no quick fix
There is no sweet place
No lasting cure, no lasting kicks
No one great love
No winning cause
No full embrace
Just push and shove
Pain Cocktail
Stuck like a dumb fly with dirt between your toes
In pool of glue sticking to your every move
Floating on more dirt somewhere deep inside
You’re constantly breaking down
A tangled web of lies
That’s a pain cocktail
Sounds like a pain cocktail
Lean out and kiss the TV set in your lonely room
Where the walls stand there like players
Who’ve forgotten their lines
The radiators groans are louder than the noise on your screen
And you cry for someone to laugh with
But you’re just too hard to please
I’ve spent most of my time planning how I’ll live my life
But I won’t believe in anything until I’ve won the lottery
I imagine myself owning a house with a swimming pool
But the drain clogs up with mermaid hair and other people’s loneliness
That’s a pain cocktail
Sounds like a pain cocktail
The earth didn’t come with an operating manual
So you let your emotional life be lead by some magazine
Education, marriage, then a nervous breakdown
So you mix another stiff one to hold off all the pain
That’s a pain cocktail
Sounds like a pain cocktail
You’ve got a pain cocktail
Queen of Denial
I’m the girl who plays her part quite well
I’ve got the poise and a look that sells
Discuss the weather say it could get better
Jet set, get set, be a go-go getter
I find comfort in a lazy-boy lounge
And I can really blossom when I don’t have to scrounge
I talk though my fingers, does any feeling linger
When I cut-jokes and throw pokes at all the dead ringers
My heart can harden and chill overnight
And I can really holler if my skirt is too tight
I’d rather make a drink than take the time to think
I’m a cool hustler, I can make you think
I gawk and I listen
Wide-eyed princess
Out of a dungeon
Must learn to do business
Bottles of champagne
Opened up again
Go flat so much faster
Overflowing when he says when
Smoke an Endless Chain
I walk just like Cleopatra
Underneath my wig
I can smoke an endless chain
I'm nervous but I'm big
You might be another nightmare nailed upon the ground
You might be another dream small and white and round
You might be another nightmare complete with piped in sound
You might be another dream turn me upside down
Tip-toe gently from my room and
Leave me to my sleep
Curtains drawn to veil the gloom
I pray my soul to weep
One foot in tomorrow, one foot in yesterday
Today is kicking the hell out of me
Sleep my life away with
Dreams that life could be worth living
Underneath the latest hype
Half-a sleeping pill for worry
Then you're gone in one clean swipe
You might be another nightmare nailed upon the ground
You might be another dream small and white and round
You might be another nightmare complete with piped in sound
You might be another dream turn me upside down
Quicksand
This man came up to me yesterday, yesterday
Right on the sidewalk, downtown and pulled out a gun
He pulled it from under his coat and then without a word
He went and shot me in the head
I was contemplating on the roof just the other day
Admiring the view just over the ledge
Someone came up from behind and with one fatal swoop
Decided to push me over the edge
And I'm in quicksand
Walking around in a deep sleep
Quicksand
A labyrinth of personality flaws
I was lounging around by the pool just the other day
Blissfully sipping my Maitai under the sun
When I turned my head to watch something overhead
Someone slipped some hemlock in my drink
The things you know nothing about
Sooner or later they'll find you out
When it happens I'm clearing out
The things you know nothing about
And I'm in quicksand
Walking around in a deep sleep
Quicksand
A labyrinth of personality flaws
Slide
You and I have thumb-shut our eyes
You and I are cut down to size
You and I have just let everything
Slide
Even the sun clouds this morning can’t manage
Along with the girl whose heart has been damaged
A kiss can lie
There’s noise I can’t hear and words I can’t say
Along with the thoughts that I’ve kept at bay
A voice can tell that
You and I have thumb-shut our eyes
You and I are cut down to size
You and I have just let everything
Slide
I feel an emptiness pick up and holler
There’s something wrong with the way we won’t bother
A chance to change
I’m inside myself trying to get out
There’s a void that keeps kicking about
I can dress it up
I can take it out
But I can’t avoid
The pain and the doubt
You and I have thumb-shut our eyes
You and I are cut down to size
You and I have just let everything
Slide
Ten Thousand Ages
Old men sit on benches, nameplates on their lapels
They try to keep their senses with all they’ve had to sell
You’re safe with the heater, you’re safe with the kitchen clock
Hide quick under the king size, jump in and hide from yourself
Some people walk barely aware of their bones
Skirts, lingerie, business suits stalking the streets
These people multiply in clones
A blind man’s dance over ten thousand ages
Went in my ear
The golden dreams off of ten thousand pages
Were so sincere
A blind man’s dance over ten thousand ages
Caught my eye
The golden dreams off of ten thousand pages
To do or die
Growth can be such a process when you’re going backwards
Give in to all the wrong folks, charmers under every stone
Recognize your own backyard and you could be a threat
Anesthetize your aching heart and you might just forget
Decorate your broken will with moveable clichés
Leave them on the windowsill where they might fly away
A blind man’s dance over ten thousand ages went in my ear
The golden dreams off of ten thousand pages were so sincere
A blind man’s dance over ten thousand ages caught my eye
The golden dreams off of ten thousand pages to do or die
The Dream Machine
With a blink of an eye you’re dangling from a thread
With all the make-believe they stuffed inside your head
With a snap of a finger your heart is synthetic
And your reasons for being are purely cosmetic
There’s a voice inside your head
And it says to you:
Hey, we can woo with all our schemes
Hey, we can fool you
If you believe in the dream machine
With a pat on the back
There’re limousines full of stars and kings
Promising the third world just a piece of string
Suburban zombies hooked on tv-reruns
Hide in their wildest dreams
Armed with plastic popguns
There’s a voice inside their heads
And it says to them:
Hey, we can woo with all our schemes
Hey, we can fool you
If you believe in the dream machine
Secret of the Universe
The last gulp went down his throat in swirling bright spirals
Like a kid in a circus tent he loves everybody
He can't remember their names they're all out of focus
He melts like a Dali watch he needs everybody
Everything seemed so simple
Everything seemed so clear
How was he to know he was letting in
The secret of the universe
Under her tongue she's dissolving part of her memory
She feels like she's in control but she just keeps laughing
She can't come down to the ground she's found a shortcut
She's full of an emptiness that's seemed so important
Everything seemed so simple
Everything seemed so clear
How was he to know he was letting in
The secret of the universe
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Chris Moore-Backman
Atticus Finch
Angelspeak
See the proud men tall and confident
And the crowd that is forming
How the motion bring a gladness to your heart
And the mystery pull you closer
To your fellow man in the lamplight
Let your feet fall in time to the sound of...
A town polite receives you
Could bring you to your knees
My sweet
Or lift you like a wind to a featherly falling
All the dreams that you clung to as a boy
Held under their canvas wrapped up in a web of twine
Unveil me derail me close me up
And I'll wander through the station
Like I used to do with you
And our town tonight will break through
A city for to be
My sweet
The Waltz
One steady step all that I have
Exit shy delicate elegant
Set the earth beneath the sky
And no regrets
You know how the chandelier
Give itself entire to the ballroom's dancing
Lately I'm someone
Only in the sight of you
I don't know why I try
Why I clench this trembling lie
Of your sudden slip in my arms
The gentle grip of my heart
How the mahogany say
Long ago all was slowly different, charming
Made for us
You and me
And alone
Blood and Burgundy
These living room walls with fire painted
To feel as though you were inside the sun
And she painted the entryway
Somewhere between blood and burgundy
She turned to him and smiled
The brush still dripping
Hey, she said, we look beautiful in red
He dreams this hall chartreuse
Upon a coat of black
Ah darling please she sighs her most playful sigh
What say we negotiate tonight
Between the sheets of this strange domestic life
The Blasting Days
Do they frighten you with talk
They like to talk about a better life
I reach for the lantern and carry myself from the train
Or is it their poise
Like the feel of technology
Hand to the tunnel wall, I feel the truth in the clay
We'll look for a shooting star
Through the window they allow me
Song of the tunnelmen workingmen stomaching heat
There's a twisting to life
When they treat you post-traumatically
We built a cross on the morning they brought the machine
It must have surprised you
Will we be capable of style and grace anymore
Will it ever be how it was
When we hammered through the blasting days
And I can't help wondering
If they'd be so kind
Moving like sparks set the will of the dynamite free
So kind as to say hey
To the boys on the line
Lifting the solid earth sensing the tide underneath
Wouldn't that surprise you
Will we be capable of style and grace anymore
Will it ever be how it was
Like the blasting days back at Big Bend
I guess they're hoping
That soon we will tell
That we were there
When the greatest of all hammers
Would fall no more
But they'd never understand how it was
When the future came of a sudden
To the blasting days
Hand to the tunnel wall come feel the truth in the clay
Elegy
I found the place
It was only by mistake
Where we escaped
When we left the world that day
I still tend the flame
Though what's befallen you of late
Will take you away
For the pain
You'll suggest I make a break
But there's still space
In my drawer of dearest things
Should stay the same
Burning Letters
And so she thought about him
Without wanting to
She stumble through
Tasting the playing light of him
“Guilt kills” come the whisper
So she brush that voice from her shoulder
“Guilt kills” come again
Then she tap her forehead gently
With the quill of her dead husband's pen
Saying na na here's the spool
Here's the spool of love
Is it cold waiting outside
With the moon and the starlight
So fifty years later
He's fifty years better
And brings the oxygen that she moves
To kindle the flames
Setting fire to all of her things
All the furniture
The bric-a-brac
And all the vows she made
In His Family
Remember when
Half asleep
Your reach across
The bed
Over me
Slowly
For the light to see
What it means
To be
In his family
Is everything you need
And all she has to say
Setting pictures there before you
Can turn the other way
You see
What it means
Finally
You see
Where Were You
Where were you
And it's sad how all the grown men die a bit
Each gangster film gone by
Like horseshoes I soar through
Watch me topple in the air slowed down
The sunken blue of falling for you
Where were you
The moments of hurried housewives replies
And of sewing and remedies
Wash over me
Brush the hair from these boyish eyes
Wasn't it me who pulled your braids
And ran away only to cry
Where were you
When the messenger gave warning
Where were you
When my heart was breaking
Not fancy, but sweet
Cotton candy, the parades, the palisades
Lightning flashes
This room full of brightness
For the moment
A Magdalene Love
Mine is a Magdalene love
Said the boy to the sea
Will you receive
Spread your legs
These waves
For me
To be awakened by the autumn
To feel the anxiousness dissolve
To live alive a frontier soul
To die alive at home
Too Many Weddings
Too many weddings
To live between
Too many weddings
I'm dizzy with deciding
It's the way you look at me
When we receive
The calligraphy
The prophecy
The postman brings
Too many weddings
It's the way you look at me
When you choose your earrings
When for your shoulders falls
The shawl of your mending
Too many weddings
Dreambook
A Chagall red
Beneath the word
Atop the sleep
A hurricane
Inside the room
Whispering
Shenaniganed birthwet and wayward
She's the one
Who set me down
Set me here
As a pen to her dreambook
Then to the side
Simple as forgetting
And brittle as trust
Homesick and fevered
Her healing hands move me
Lift me up
And my lips smear
The ink of her name
On the back of the angel
December Man
Carry cities on your back
Carry stories in your hands
Tell your favorite to yourself now
And the walls of the room
They are waiting there to meet you
He leans slowly now to check the time
In warm car she gently turns the page now
As their child sleeps upon a rhyme
They know you'll be there
You know time and place
The night pale blue and gray
They know you'll be there soon
Lean you now to check the clock
Set your feet from bed to earth
Stand you up to embrace the street night
Pack it up throw it all over your shoulder
They are waiting there to meet you
She moves toward him leaves her book behind
Their eyes are set to greet you
Hand in hand their hearts entwined
They know you'll be there
You know time and place
The night pale blue and gray
They know you'll be there soon
There's an old swing in your glance
Creaky gate and sunflower breeze
Hardwood floor and children's feet
Bread melts between your tongue and teeth
Climbing in the Rafters
They say it can't be saved
Once the curtain is drawn
But still I go climbing in the rafters
Where the play somehow plays on
One day you'll come calling
And I’ll drop what I’m doing
To go to the door unknowing
I'll be shocked but not surprised
Like the night you brought the parade home
To tease me how we could march in time
And they say it can't be safe
To live this way
But still I go climbing in the rafters
Still I go
When they say you’re not for me
I’ll say they say a lot of things
Until
Until the next stop
Until the chosen
Until the whistle
Until the move
Until she's apologized
Until the cows come home
Until the price goes down so I can afford it
Until hell freezes over
Until the doctorate
Until you've eaten all your vegetables
Only then will I
Only then can I
Only then could I
Only then may I
Only then
The Gold and the Gray
Don't fault the foreman
Just call the priest
Solace your worries
This too will cease
Hum the lesson
That's bled the years
To trust the engine
And nurse the gears
You've been my comfort
You've been my stone
I've been lonely
But not alone
I'd like to weather the crowd again
And throw my smile to the dancing girls
We'd take the 14 downtown
And swallow the city
So bring down the lights
Release the night sky
This factory ceiling
From where I lie
I'd swear that they sounded the whistle
That we can sigh of quitting time
And all the banter boys beneath their lampposts
To laugh us home again
Is it gold or it is gray
Did I ever tell you
Is it gold or it is gray
Ends and Means
The suits flurry past you
And the souls who hide behind
Full stop at Pine and Sansome
Rock heel to toe until you find
This concrete line it only
Clings to the surface of
The land she one day reclaims
Her space again and love
I'll wait here til morning
When they'll all come round again
Stone deaf to every warning
Every saint and child might lend
Friend I knew you well
The dust of gallantry
Flung straight into the universe
With all you hoped to be
Settling down what we settled for
The white picket fencing blame
The momentum hollow keeping
A half step ahead of shame
And wait there til morning
When we'll all come round again
Sleepwalking in your story
Daydreamt of a noble man
Put away those thoughts were burning
Gotta fill this empty day
Life calls I'll choose a sofa
Matching drapes are on display
But the ends outrun my means more than I guess
I shouldn't complain
No I shouldn’t complain
And wait there til morning
When we'll all come round again
Sleepwalking in your story
Daydreamt of a noble man
A Wider Sky
I fall through the ice again
One day as it is
Stretching for should be
And could we I slip
Down down familiarly
My kingdom of try
A kingdom of ashes
The folly of I
Do you ever watch the cars at night
Inching downtown in a broken line
They move you through picturing the lives inside
Have you ever watched the dancing light
Leaf-dappled in the glowing white of your bedroom
And the moment undoes you
I lay this down
I lay this down
I lay this down
I lay this down
This kingdom of ashes
This hypocrite's jewel
A crown for the glutton
A sword for the fool
This eye for deception
Blind to the cost
No deal for the enemy
No search for the lost
Have you ever seen a child's delight
When her mother finally arrives
An everyday homecoming sublime
Did you ever choose instead to climb
Out of nowhere and in spite of time
All for your love of silence beneath a wider sky
How long to write to you
How long to write
How long to hide from you
How long to hide
Is it ever so completely right
As when you least expect it might be so
You're one
You're one and so you melt away
Did you ever choose instead to rise
Up from nowhere stepping out of time
All for the grace of silence and a wider sky
I lay this down
I lay this down
I lay this down
I lay this down
Closer
God bless America
And soon
Those planes are close
And no doubt loaded
Tumbling so
To the ground
I'm seeking cover
From the hounds
And sadnesses
I do go
I do go
Through words of left behind
Did we forget our soonest learning
The feel of closer
God bless a sinful love
I swear there's goodness
In here somewhere
Lies my final lie
My undoing
For to guide
This soul
To water
Water
Filling first the low
Where we ought bear the stones of freedom
And the feel of closer
Please go
Let the holy fools know
I'm catching pace with their making
And these slow refrains that tear me down
Writ of joy and suffering
The Shining Hour
Watch it go
The shining hour
That wouldn't be
That couldn't be
All his dreaming
And his holy ending
No myth can cage
Nor erase
What's inside this
Broken heart
Is everything
And something more
Too hard to explain
I cannot explain
No matter how and still I try
All from one
Photographic image
An image taken bravely
Of a coward shooting wolves from a helicopter
All from one
I don't know why it is he goes
But watch him go
The child you were becomes uncertain now of you
Are you the marksman taking aim
Are you the pilot (steady, steady)
Or is that you beholden beauty
Sprinting the snow
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Catherine Conlin
Bedtime Story, WORD, Catherine Conlin
Moving Mountains
Hand me the crow bar,
Roll up your sleeves -
We’ve got a mountain to move
Sun in the background
Beats off your head
I can see pearls of…
Sometimes the big things
Get in the Way
But they don’t stop me
I know where I’m going
Eclipse
He was there when I awakened
His long fingers woven through mine
I couldn't sleep with the warmth of him next to me
It had been a while since anyone had taken the time
He asked me, "how'd you sleep?"
I said, "I had a dream for first time in a very long while"
I don't know where this may go, but I don't care
There was sun out the window
The night before, an eclipse in the sky
We lay there on the bed, pulled back the curtains and made wishes
I wished that once things disappeared, the essence of them
Remained still behind that curtain of blackness
And all the moonlight in Canada doesn't add up to this
That sliver of sunlight on the floor and his fingers woven through mine
I don't know where this may go but I don't care
I don't know where this may go
Falling Star
A star
Falls from the sky
Leaves
A trail on my mind
A star
On the ground
Lies broken
Waiting for rescue
I pick it up
In my napkin
And
I bring it home to you
You place it
In a jar
On a shelf
By the fire place
The star
Sleeps in the jar
I
Sleep in your arms
The star
Opens an eye
I hear butterflies
And sunshine
Baby Girl
Once, when I was a baby girl,
I got lost in my neighborhood
My daddy came and looked for me
I didn’t even know I was gone
Later, when I was a little girl,
I would swing on the swing from the tree next door
I would fly so high in the sky and
No one even in my head ‘cos
I was flying
And I was so high
When I was an older girl,
They told me that I couldn’t fly:
“It’s just not that natural,
That’s why we have airplanes.
If God wanted you to fly,
He would have given you
A big jet engine or two,
And a lot of passengers.”
When I was a young woman
I mistook myself for seriousness
Oh… all that seriousness
The drudgery of seriousness
When you’re a young woman
Who tries to take yourself seriously,
When all the time you’re scared shitless
‘Cos you’re out there on your own, going:
“How am I gonna navigate this space around me,
And make it look easy?”
‘Cos boys like that -
They like it to look easy
When I was an older woman
I could be quiet for long hours
And be happy in my own head
Happy with my dog,
Happy with my husband,
And all inside my head
And not telling anybody anything,
Or even answering the phone if it rings
And not answering the phone if it rings
Dangerous
Don’t let me out of the house tonight
I am dangerous
I cut my hair
My hair…
I put it in the bag
And put it on a scale
And I weighed it
Three quarters of an ounce
Of darkness cut from my hair
I wanna dance
I wanna scream!
I break things,
I spill things
In my happiness
…and cut my hair
Left it on the floor
Life is a vacuum, waiting to be filled
With hair
And dust
and past
Sometimes when something moves in
Something moves out
I am dangerous tonight –
Don’t let me leave
Don’t let me go outside
And drive my car
Don’t let me buy anything
Don’t let me call anyone
I don’t even know who I are
Footprints in Concrete
God hides in the corner
In between the two buildings on Natoma street
A woman sits in a wheelchair on the corner
A Chinese man walks by and tells her to move
Mothers comes to pick up their children
The park outside is surrounded by steel
Flowers and caterpillars
Steel
Flowers and caterpillars
Dressed up like security
The children cry when she picks them up
Do they want to go home?
Are they sad for being there?
A child's hand in plaster of Paris
Hangs on the wall
The mother never lets go
The police walk the beat
Bird prints in concrete
Bird footprints
Find beauty in
The fact that the trash never gets picked up from
The fact that you can count on that
The fact that the pile just keeps getting bigger
Every day a new element is introduced
Maybe two
Today's addition included Top Ramen
And a carton of orange juice
My dog almost steps on a syringe
I see used tissue on the ground
God hides in the corner
Only I can see him
God lets me in to the corner
I don't carry water on my head
I don't wash my clothes
In the river where the dead float by
I don't come here ninety miles on a raft
God hides in a corner on Natoma street
Right behind the bird feet
This could be beautiful to somebody someday
Redefine Heaven!
I close my window before I go to sleep,
I shut my blinds
I plug my ears
I cover my eyes
I take a pill...
I count the sirens like sheep in the sky
(push your plugs in deeper)
God hides in the corner on Natoma street
Behind--between two buildings
Only you can see him
Get Me the Material
Find a stick to find water
Get me the material
Find the pipes and find the faucets
Find a tub and find a sink
Find soup to wash my body
Get me the material
Material
Build me the window so I can look out on the people
Get me the material
Build me a window so I can see the people
Get me the material
Get me the window so I can see the mountain
Sew me the curtains so I can go to sleep
Get me the material
Material
Find the softest goose and make me a pillow
Get me the material
Find the softest goose and build me a pillow
Get me the material
Find me straw to make me a bed
Get me the material
So I've got a place to...
Get me the material
Lay your head down next to mine
Get me the material
Lay your head down next to mine
Get me the material
I want to have your baby
Get the material
I want to have your baby
Get me the material
Material
Build me an island where I can live
Get me the material
Build me a boat to get away from here
Get me the material
Lay me down where my father lies
Get me the material
Spread my ashes in the river going by
Get me the material
Material
Hail Mary
I can see the light in the window as I'm driving up the drive
I can see my mother in the kitchen putting the dishes away
I am warm even though, I'm standing outside with snowflakes in my hair
That was so long ago but I still remember it anyway
Hail Mary
This is the last pass that I'll throw
This is the last chance I am giving you
Where's the grace you've been hiding for so long?
I can see my sister wearing a dress that's just a little too small
She doesn't seem to mind, it's a hand-me-down but she wears it with grace
I can see my father in the other room smoking a cigarette, holding his head in his hand
Worrying about how he's going to pay for this place
Hail Mary
This is the last pass that I'll throw
This is the last chance I am giving you
Where's the grace you've been hiding for so long?
I can hear the baby crying in the other room.
I can feel your lips on the back of my neck as I'm doing my own dishes.
I don't remember the last time I felt so all alone, dreaming these dreams of yesterday
Dreaming of all that is dead and gone
Hail Mary
This is the last pass that I'll throw
This is the last chance I am giving you
Where's the grace you've been hiding for so long?
“I” of the Camera
I love you
In the afternoon
The way the light
Hits on your face
I love you
In black and white
In the morning
When you wake up
With your eyes all sleepy
I love you
In color
I love you
In sepia
In the afternoon
In the morning
From the beginning of time
Till now and tomorrow
Turn the light on
The sky changes
Places with me
In the City
Every day I walk the streets
Of this gritty city
In the pretty city by the Bay
Cut my way through the filthy rich the stinking poor
The sidewalk cracks and the whores
Ride the bus and get AIDS
Come home and wash your hands
Earthquake’s coming ‘round the corner
I can feel bends
If you question my logic
You will understand
There’s no logic here
Down in under land
But I can’t get past the filthy rich
The stinking poor
Get AIDS on the bus
Go home and wash your hands
Earthquake’s coming, man
I'm afraid for you
There’s a shelter down the street
Someone handing out food
Got emergency water
Got your money in your safe
Got your safe in your head
And you lock yourself inside it
A man shoots up in the alley
While a woman gets her nails done
They're closing down the banks
Lock yourself inside your mansion
There are gangs, yes there are gangs
Let’s blame it on the gangs
Let’s blame it on the cops
Let’s blame it on the banks
Let’s blame it on the filthy rich and stinking poor
In the Age of Aquarius
In the Haight, in the Mission
On the Bart, on the Muni
On the Golden Gate
On the Bay Bridge
It’s a six-dollar toll
How am I supposed to live?
But I can’t get past
The filthy rich and stinking poor
Get AIDS on a bus
Go home, wash your hands
Life Is Right Now
Every time I get comfortable
I get complacent
Every time I get complacent
I get comfortable
Don’t get attached to the comfort
Don’t get attached to the outcome
Life is right now
Pay attention to this moment
It will never happen to you again
See blue flowers
In the spring time
Life is right now
It’s not yesterday
Life is right now
What are you waiting for?
Pay attention to this moment
It will never happen to you again
The light falls on the pavement
At this time of the day, today
It won’t be the same tomorrow
at the same time
in the same place
Because…
Fourteen sailboats in the bay right now
The light on your face
The shadow of a flag
Mood Anthology
C-squared urchin
Anemone
Jellyfish
Sea Urchin
Octopus and squid
Amoeba
Jellyfish
He has not met my goldfish
And yet when he opens his hands
Rainbows spill into the pond
Things crawling and you can’t even see them
Dolphin
Tidepools
This is my mood anthology
Particles of Dust
I see particles of dust
In a swirl of tornadoes
Beautiful leaves and particles
In a swirl on a sidewalk
The light hits it perfectly
And I don’t have a camera with me
But I have my memory and the words
Stuck in my throat
Swirling inside me
This is one moment now
You will not experience it
And I know in my bones
That I have uniquely been here
On a sidewalk
In the light like a weed
Where the cold meets the warm
You’ll find me
Ride the Wave
He grew up without growing up
He raised his children without the tools to become
But they became
She had eyes in the back of her head
But she never looked forward enough
To see the day
Some people progress
Some people digress
Some people just stay the same
Some people progress
Some people digress
Some people just stay the same
He gave in but he never gave up
He slowed down long enough just to
Listen to the rhythm of the wave
She grew strong but she never grew tough
She found quiet
At the end of the day
I want to grow up
I want to become
I want not to repeat the mistakes
That my ancestors made
I want to make peace
I want to make love
I want to be flowers
Where they lay my grave
He grew up without growing up
She had eyes in the back of her head
I want to make peace
I want to make love
Flowers…
Miraculous, Fragrant, Beautiful, Organic
Flowers
Riga’s Fog
I hear your voice
In the glass
Swirling in my head
I taste your warm lips
On my cheek
Still stinging, singing
Sweetness…sweetness
I feel time in your brain
Swirling like a vortex
Down the drain
The rain on the window
Sings a lullaby
And I can see your reflection in the water
Little beads of convex faces
I feel tornadoes of time
Where the cold of the past
Meets the heat of the now
We’re not in Kansas anymore
Little doggie, do your dance
I’ll wear my shoes
And dream the dream
And know the know
Saturn's in Capricorn
Saturn's in Capricorn
You wake with sleep in your eyes
In the middle of the afternoon
As if it was just sunrise
And when the church bell rings and reminds you that you're here, not there
You think of broken cathedrals
Bombed-out walls and windows everywhere
The soothsayer says “today or tomorrow won't be the day”
She says, "stash all you nuts away like a squirrel, it'll be a while”
Saturn's in Capricorn
So walk one foot in front of the other
Pour yourself some coffee
Do a load of laundry
Sweep the dust up of the floor
But don't buy a new broom
This old broom has memories of these corners
Saturn's in Capricorn
There's a girl on the corner and she's wearing her mother's old mink
As she lights up a cigarette, she starts to think
Of the mother she’s never had and the fur that isn't hers
As she steps into the taxi
And disappears
Saturn's in Capricorn
And I can't wake up
I can't go to sleep, I'm so tired
Shadow Tattoo
The light through the trees
The light through the leaves
I focus my camera into the sun
They tell me not to do this
Shadows are an inevitable part of light
Or are they the absence of light?
Or is light the absence of shadow
And shadow, the negative space of light?
I wear a shadow tattoo on my ankle
It moves when I dance around
It leaves the party when I leave the party
And so does the light
And so does the shadow
He was inclined to see the molecular structure of things
In an innovative way
Two atoms of oxygen
Wrapped around my perspective
My perspective
Disguises itself as
Shadow
The Horse You Rode In On
When I was a child
To pass the time
I’d tell endless stories
Without reason or rhyme
And my cousins would listen
As if something would happen
They kept waiting for
The horse
...and the horse you rode in on
I don’t know where this is going
It doesn’t matter
It feels so good
To have my hands in the batter
So eat the cookie
Or eat the dough
Right from your finger
Your stomach won’t know
…and the horse you rode in on
Cop or villain
Gangster or hero
You add it all up
The sum equals zero
Stetson or hoodie
It’s all on your head
You can’t take it with you
Your weapon to bed
…and the horse you rode in on
Welcome to the Planet
Welcome to the planet
Leave your shoes in the ozone
Have a drink of the Milky Way
From a ladle made of stars
You can't sit down, you don't know gravity
Your voice just echoes in my skull
You are the star in the sky
In the sky of my eye
Welcome to my brain
Go spelunking in the labyrinth
Turn the gray into gold
With the alchemy of your vision
A double helix on your finger
Reminds you of what you left behind
But, you are the star in the sky
In the sky of my eye
Welcome to the planet
Make yourself at home among the stars
You Tell the Truth
She tells a lie and you know she’s lying to you
Can you take it? Can you swallow the truth?
In your throat is equilibrium
There is balance now.
The grudges that you hold, so the guilt you bear
So why don’t you just let it go?
and you lie… and you lie…
and she lies
You know the story
It’s all a misunderstanding
You thought that she thought
That you though that she thought
It’s all confusing, but you like it that way
You like your chaos one more day
and you lie… and she lies…
You like your lies
Like you like your coffee
Straight out of the pot
No sugar
No cream
No artificial sweetener, baby
When It Happened
My mother was ironing in the living room
When it happened
At three, I remember the world stopping
On its axis
When it happened
Stopping…
Martinis
Manhattans
Cocktail dresses
Tom Collins
Empire waste
Teased hear
Stopping…
When it happened
Or maybe I remember
What they tell me happen
Happened
A ballerina
My mother was ironing in the living room
We didn’t play doctor
We had a damask, tufted
We played bar
Sofa in the living room
Retro furniture
Ivory on ivory
And two big wingback chairs
And we had a turntable
And a stereo and
Convertible
In a burnt orange color
When it happened
Convertible
I had already run away once
When I was 2
Stopping…
In my underwear
Racetracks
Standup bass
We were in the new house
Ping-Pong table
And high ceilings in the entry way
Pool table
Sliding glass doors
Gordon Onslow Ford textures
Orbits
Orbits
Orbits of thought
On the moon…
People going to the moon
On the moon…
For the first time
We had woods
I was afraid of the basement
Next to our house
And it spanned about four acres
If I had to go down there for something
I would run upstairs
Trees were very small
There were maples and ash
Maples grew up before we did
Ash was slower
I still don’t trust basements
And the cottonwoods towered over us
Snowed everywhere
In the middle of the summer
I was 3 when he had his head blown off
She was so dignified
Things aren’t so innocent any more
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Boe Gatiss
Inflato
Almost Supernatural
I dig
Dig deep
In some desolate soil
To bury one condition
Too big
To keep
In the scheme of small things
What’s done is done
I slip back into the acceptable place
Where there are no insects
Just rumors of fossilized remains
You say one word
It’s almost supernatural
I force my belief with no skeleton
Toward the jellyfished soul
It’s not worth going down with a conditionless ship
You extend your hand
It’s almost supernatural
That you can stir up this much emotion
It’s almost supernatural
You say one word, one hand
Bean Box
Maelstrom
Pompeii
Crack the lid
Squeeze the box
And out popped
Dodos
Panjandrums
A history deep
I’ll try to round them up again
I’ll try to stand them up on end
But they mostly get away
I say
Drop one
Wrap them round
A naked spool
See what
It becomes
A length of rope
A stretch of snake
I’ll try to wind it up again
I’ll try to stand it up on end
Like a charmer
Hold the vapor
Serpentine
Hold
And tell me what this means
Tell me what this means
I’ll find out what you mean
Maelstrom
Pompeii
Crack the lid
Squeeze the box
And out popped
Dodos
Panjandrums
A history deep
Bruce Wagner’s Garden
She’s ten years in a teepee
He’s poncho’d on the roof
Convergence is their mercury
It scatters like the proof
Of both of their experience
As they hammer at the truth
Flexion
Now that the light’s on
The count to one and back again
And the stratus hum
Makes the fire cool
Flexion
Rises up in front of me
The hand of Lazarus
The threat of losing touch with you
Shot out of the static like a prophet derelict
High above all the shimmering
Howling toward the sea
Now that the light’s on
What’s making sense is brevity
And this atmosphere’s indifference
Flexion
I see myself growing numb
Feel the plexus slow
Fuck this rotten impetus
Coming at the pathos like a lapsing oxygen
High above all that shimmers
< >
Despite the air being thinner
It’s much easier to breathe
Flexion rises up in front of me
Four
Cup my hands to catch the drop
There’s no water left here
It seems the weather stopped
Rampant thirst and appetite
I’ve only got one drop left
But a stronger thirst for you
Juggernaut
We trace the satellites
Our nerves are stuck in space
Given the energy
We’d chase the satellites
We eat the juggernauts
Kindly predictable
Guess at their potency
Pretend they’re astronauts
I stare into my face
What’s to see?
What’s to feel?
I stare into your face
What’s to see?
What’s to feel?
What to do?
We eat the monuments
Try stomaching their bones
Digest the best we can
Absorb the monuments
You can see from high up
The well-lit geography
But when you’re stuck inside
You rarely see satellites
I reach into my space
What’s to touch
What’s to feel?
I reach into your space
What’s to touch?
What’s to feel?
What’s to lose?
What’s to touch?
Kabuki
I took my modern seat
This is the psyche seam
Bodies pushing fabric
This is the modern scene
What’s real in here drifts free
Laced with a luminous smoke
The more we see
The better the joke
Hey!
What a fine twist of fate
Dropped into this hip show
What’s behind that machine?
Hey!
What a fine twist of fate
Dropped into this hip stream
Swallowed by the kabuki
We venture like the itched
After the soft lights dim
Watch the flying monkeys
That’s where the Pooh-Bahs come in
We’ll create god soon
Paint him nostalgic blue
Then the organs play
And the voices boom
Hey!
What a fine twist of fate
Dropped into this hip dream
What’s behind that machine?
Hey!
What a fine twist of fate
Dropped into this hip stream
Swallowed by the kabuki
All these pleasant ways of absorbing things
The organismed smoke spinning off the wings
All the pleasant haze of absorbant things
The machine has got its ways
Majoropo
You’re a little bit of every nasty thing
Eventually one watches out for
And I’m a little bit of all your synapses
Everything I do, you’ve probably thought of
Push on
We share a stride but not the style of shoe
And we walk upright, and we’re prepared to
And we stop at the shop of the plastered buddha
Like it’s the thing to do
And his smile’s one up on us
All I wanna do is be somebody
All I wanna do is elevate
All I wanna do is no hoi polloi
All I wanna do is deviate
All I wanna do is be somebody
All I wanna do exceeds the skin
All I wanna do is evolute and
Crawl out of the soup we’re in
It’s tricky how the fumbling entertains itself
Apparently it’s a ride we’re along for
I see your self and your self sees me
And that polished Pooh-Bah
And his smile’s a 90% smile
All I wanna do is be somebody
All I wanna do is elevate
All I wanna do is no hoi polloi
All I wanna do is deviate
All I wanna do is be somebody
All I wanna do exceeds the skin
All I wanna do is evolute and
Crawl out of the swamp we’re in
You’re a little bit of a nasty thing, push on, push on
And I’m a little bit of your firings, gone, gone
Come on
Come on
Metropolis
They say the notion of a big bang shakes up
The things you see inside a big spoon upside down
I say let’s go to where the world is shrunken
Stretching
They say … junky
I say let’s turn to face the suction
There’s so much light
There’s so much day left
And so much to play with
There’s so much scene
Spinning like a gyroscope
So much light
Don’t know what to do here
Trip on appeal
No need for balance here
Strictly
Filamental atmosphere
Suck like a sponge
Eat of the fruit my dear
The metropolis, it’s got a half life.
There’s so much light
There’s so much to play with
There’s so much light
And <> to stick with
And all this urge
The magnetism
So much light
I don’t want to leave here
There’s so much light
There’s so much to play with
There’s so much height
And rumors to stick with
And all this sheen
Brimmin’ the atmosphere
This light
You cannot deny here
Speak
So this is what
Succumbing to
The natural course of things is like
Milgram shocks, Mobius strips
Wandering round leashed to my appetite
Speak into the horn, please
Stretch your hands out
And you can feel loud noise
Makes you think it’s coursing through the conch
If you can hold noise
You can throw the switch
Convince yourself that there’s no end to this
Power surge, Mobius trip
Watering mouth and spiraled satellites
Speak into the horn, please
Speak
Into the horn
Please
Speak!
Speak
Into
The horn
Please
Speak
Into
The horn
Please
Speak
Into
The horn
Please
Stretching
I stretch
Into the carnivaled plastic years
I stretch
Across the trampolining ears
I stretch
Out like those Technicolored fumes
I stretch
To reach around my tiny room
I stretch
Into the bottom of up and down
I stretch
My tongue to taste in the liquid ground
I stretch
Into my little telling piece of room
I stretch into the latitude next to mine
I stretch across particular broken lines
I stretch
Out until I’m big enough shallow
To see through
Little sense trickling down my backbone
Makes its way
There’s nothing to decide
Little shocks and the fixed things go elastic
Reach from here, reach to there,
Tentacles, flubber, and the funny air
I stretch, I stretch
Into the little world
Up and down
I stretch, I stretch
West
I chanted the mantras
I scattered the dust
I’ve lost my possessions
What’s next?
I looked past the troubles
Eyes behind lids
I know where I’m going
I look past the <charms>, and you weren’t in the coals
And these walls were supposed to collapse
And the wheel, it’s supposed to give in
And this state, it intends to roll on
And this state, it rolls on
I know where I’m going
It’s my last confidence
You’ve done what you could do to shatter the rest
I’ll know you’ll come back
And these walls were supposed to collapse
And the wheel, it’s supposed to give in
And this state, it intends to roll on
And this state, it rolls on
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>