Our Red Ink Year (Pt. 1)
The steel city is a bar-graph
with flame overlay, belching cloudswarms
of migrants, unworking
ants dispersed by ghostly fist
of raw, material forces...
In our daybook, write,
“a day most fateful....”
Mark this humdrum observance:
Hand-to-mouth will overwhelm us
in transience
multiplicity
and vanishing vampires.
Burning Bush-Woosh
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Lyrics:
I believe in Echo,
but what does she see in me
and all the crazy bigots in my head
throwing Christian babies into the sea?
I spy, with my cloudy eye,
a man afraid to touch the flame inside
and pull back a leprous hand
commandeered and directed by an alien plan.
Oh, I believe in Echo,
but does she believe in me
and all the foundering fuckers in my mind
playing doctor with the whore inside.
Posted on Tuesday, May 6, 2008 at 01:39PM
by
Wm. Rike
in A Head-Noise Mosaic: Original Music
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