Monday, October 24, 2011

Set the controls for the heart of the sun

Penned in class a fortnight or two ago, because I wasn't thinking about silly geese like #OccupyInsertCityHere, the amazing coincidence of human rights as grave concern when violated over tubs of black gold, weapons grade domestic scowling, or class, all markers of an existence that is nothing more than an existential slow ride take it easy towards Ragnarok.

This, 'tis a ritual, a necessity like once upon an adolescence when life was that & death. Now, the same, but I know more, know I'm often wrong yet am better equipped to handle it. 

It means more, & less. So, this. Staccato, pretty on the page. Spoken, a terror. Cut & stripped & stitched, then discarded then restitched then dropped.

Until a name & a series of sonic swells that burned through stanzas rising & falling, cliche of cleansing fire, sure, but there it is. Spark not the piece, but its inherent sense, the result of its spellwork upon memory & illusion (usually the very same thing), composed over as many hours as I've slept over this time & was it a waste (see below, no), is it a-okay (I can say, no) but what can I say. Great art will never be in my hands, two pair, now & then, then I fold into an eleventh, twelfth caffeine, but there is nothing else. Less than nothing after censoring here but not on the sheet because who's ever going to see past this safe pivot, I'll never show & tell. I'm not crazy.

[redacted: 1]

Whirligig hours spin the bottle, neck
jaundiced & craning
out white noise to steal
a face in tarot-littered streets, to purloin
(over a bus, a bridge) a story from a crowded being. Piercing
the smog, a solar song
whose staves prop up the dead
left, right, here in the chest, though not in vain
if I could be permitted to freeze

[redacted: 3-7]

No commentary on anything that would mean a damn thing to anyone but me, & that is a-okay. Art is its own vent. There is no other reward, sometimes.

You must do what makes you happy.

Might as well get up for work.

Sure, there's some red stuff, & some blue. No Baba Yaga, though.


ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

Well since Randal isn't going to tell, they tried to shut down #OccupyCleveland (as part of the war on Halloween, it starts earlier every year), but now the hippies got new permits.

P.S. You must do what makes you happy.

Might as well get up for work.

One of these things is not like the other...

Laura said...

Is your "SAD" acting up again? This is another post that made me feel "sad". :(
Very beautiful though, in it's own way. :)


ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

Blood Red? I love Slayer.

I was sooo close to adding this youtuber to the one above.

Randal Graves said...

if, nothing says occupy like applying to The Man for new permits to occupy.

Von, too, three nonsenses ha ha ha!

I don't hate all of work, because where else would I get Slayer Ernie?

laura, I like the miserable weather, it makes me happy.

Demeur said...

Easy to sit back in those ivy covered halls with a cushy job and throw stones at the Peonage isn't it?

Randal Graves said...

I'd love to stay and chat, unwashed masses, but I've symposia to prepare for. Now, where did my tweed jacket put those elbow patches.

Liberality said...

I know we are all very cushy at our public libraries...NOT!

You can't get a more socialist institution than the library is what I'm thinking. :)

Randal Graves said...

If you continue to let out the secret, I'm afraid I'm going to have to contact the local party commissar.

Tom Harper said...

Insert City -- damn, I knew there was a major city that we still haven't occupied yet.

Jim H. said...

I've said it before. I'll say it again. Dude, get some sleep! 6mg.

And why the yellow neck?

Jim H. said...

Try this link, then.

Jim H. said...

Yay! I fixed the internet. Still, what is it about you and Sunday nights? Dread of the dread wheelie-bus? Dusty book allergies?

thatgirl said...

I want to paint a picture of that stanza.

thatgirl said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
S.W. Anderson said...

"I'm often wrong yet am better equipped to handle it."

"I like the miserable weather, it makes me happy."

I think I'm beginning to understand your dislike of Starbuck's and maybe some other things. This is very unsettling.

OK, OK, to each his own.

susan said...

I'm not sure how it is you continue to make your misery ever more whimsical but it always makes me come back for more.

Randal Graves said...

tom, beats occupying Extractionburg, all they have is an Applebee's.

jim, stop breaking the internets! Hell, bizarre sleep patterns cover a majority of nights, but why Sunday for this? I love the Wheelie Bus and musty old books, maybe it's the thrill of the work itself. I live to give.

thatgirl, that's the best compliment I've ever gotten.

SWA, just wait till I get my hands on some drones or some Creepy Crawlies.

susan, I work long and hard on tulip tiptoeing and skip-to-my-louing.

Beach Bum said...

...I wasn't thinking about silly geese like #OccupyInsertCityHere...

Yeah but the chicks taking part are smoking hot and all flustered over social injustices and corporate greed. After talking with a few I may actually join the fight and camp out this Saturday night...