Entry tags:
Something old, found again
Cigarette leaping,
Dashed down on fast asphalt: Hey
Flower; hey phoenix.
Dashed down on fast asphalt: Hey
Flower; hey phoenix.
"...like a starved hound"
Heads up: John Darnielle (of The Mountain Goats) is in the process of posting Thirty Short Poems About [his] Favorite Black Metal Band. Highly recommended if you like John Darnielle, short poems, black metal, or some unholy combination of the three.
(One; two.)
(One; two.)
Entry tags:
Ours Poetica
They say we don't have accents, that we
drift over an ocean of American sound without touching it,
that we walk on water, that we sink
like an anchorman
What they really mean, though they don't know it, is that we
have kept our secrets secret
and our signals slight
And yet can smell our own, that hint
of rain on the breath, of
fir boughs and salmonberry
stems.
drift over an ocean of American sound without touching it,
that we walk on water, that we sink
like an anchorman
What they really mean, though they don't know it, is that we
have kept our secrets secret
and our signals slight
And yet can smell our own, that hint
of rain on the breath, of
fir boughs and salmonberry
stems.
Liliane
I lied; this one totally deserves a chorus. Now I just need another verse or so to round it out!
---
You're my dear, sweet angel of rage,
You're the text on the missing last page,
You're the hole in the ozone that lets the sun in,
You're my dear, sweet angel of sin.
You're my dear, sweet angel of wrath,
You read poems and smoke in the bath,
You're my terrible dream, you're my horrible fate,
You're my dear, sweet angel of hate.
You're a dream that I had, you're a thought I forgot,
You're my never-again, you're my probably-not,
If I could, I would cheerfully quit you, then die and then rot.
You're regret in a bottle, bad luck in a can,
You're my stupid mistake, my ingenious plan,
I'll hate you 'till the day the mountains cave in, Liliane.
---
Obviously it's a country song.
---
( Oh yeah, the update on my life. )
---
You're my dear, sweet angel of rage,
You're the text on the missing last page,
You're the hole in the ozone that lets the sun in,
You're my dear, sweet angel of sin.
You're my dear, sweet angel of wrath,
You read poems and smoke in the bath,
You're my terrible dream, you're my horrible fate,
You're my dear, sweet angel of hate.
You're a dream that I had, you're a thought I forgot,
You're my never-again, you're my probably-not,
If I could, I would cheerfully quit you, then die and then rot.
You're regret in a bottle, bad luck in a can,
You're my stupid mistake, my ingenious plan,
I'll hate you 'till the day the mountains cave in, Liliane.
---
Obviously it's a country song.
---
( Oh yeah, the update on my life. )