Thursday, July 30, 2009

The Commons set 3 // 1 - 3

I wish London would
like, you know,
but then again
I’m one of its noises
or rather, its noose.
nah, just kidding, yeh,
one of the pavements
is all, spiral chatter, am
eating the voices
the interval cracks
the crossroads, yeh
real devil business
& the cops are there
we crucified em

& the moon / remember that
there are people on it
& they have married us
weird, those consummations
those noises that waken us
roaring & absurdly whistling
& it frightens us
there’s so many of them
curled around us, inaudible
the ages, history, entire galaxies
they are eating us
citizens of raided spheres
the sky / red as a burning flag
a supreme vodka / treacherous stars

who here can speak
the language of the dead
what they meant to say
I wanna be your dog
-the radio is leaking-
they know they’re dead
yeh / & they’re not scared
chewing up the language
-as I was out walking
obscurely thru their brains
those thin metal spheres
subterranean rooms
when I was a country girl
going down to the drugstore

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