1. |
Pool the Revivifier
04:28
|
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|
Pool the Revivifier
has called out to you—
called out to you—
has cast a lure,
and rest assured,
you won’t have to wait.
In the grocery
all the tinned treats
are in a bullet shape—
in a bullet shape—
for efficiency
of delivery
of meat into more meat.
In the bar the bottles are shrieking like banshees;
stop sleeping the sleep of sheep.
Pool the Revivifier
says don’t sleep the sleep of sheep.
In a nano bath
of iceberg blue,
we are waiting for you—
waiting for you.
Slough off your skin;
abandon kin;
time draws near.
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2. |
||||
|
I, I am the crescent lung
in an endless desert.
Death’s oasis is
just a djinn shimmering.
Carry your weather
upon your back.
A blessed limp from inside the hip;
catch-as-catch-can.
Dromad
Nomad
Let your starbones glisten in raw milk moonlight.
Broken bone,
rose cologne
,
woke up to the ocean in raw milk moonlight.
In the dark,
a question mark
on the tip of a tongue of flame.
A secret code,
a holy note,
tikkun olam
A bit of lung, a bit of lung.
Just a bitter bit of lung.
An endless song
of endless rungs
traveling down your tendon.
Dromad
Nomad
Let your starbones glisten in raw milk moonlight.
Perfumed ladder
or perfumed dagger?
Pulmonary angel
in raw milk moonlight.
Nomad
Dromad
Forking paths in raw milk moonlight.
Skyclad
Olympiad
Forking tongues in raw milk moonlight.
|
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3. |
It's a Decent Living
04:09
|
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|
Automated piece of meat walking face-first into the knives.
Better yet a broken jet flying on fire into the night.
Unavoidable heat death, inevitable loss of sight;
It’s a decent living for your average sub-suburbanite.
Conveyer belt of livestream wealth cast down from the top of the pile. Autotune the entire room til the people are rank and file.
PVC branches of trees; wax fruit into your bowl.
It’s a decent living, sitting at the top of the pole.
It’s a decent living, I guess.
Oh god, oh god, oh god the trauma of living like a tiny crumb.
Here come the living dead with their bones all on the outside.
You can hear them grinding their teeth & clicking their tongues in fright. We turn up the floodlights; it goes outta sight, outta mind.
It’s an alright gig, I guess, provided you can work nights.
It’s a decent living, I guess.
Oh god, oh god, oh god the trauma of living like a tiny crumb.
Soldiers, soldiers, soldiers of fortune.
Oh god, oh god, oh god the drama of living like a tiny god.
|
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4. |
Lull in the Bell
03:25
|
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|
I only feel safe buried inside my bed.
Cover me with cushions while I pretend that I’m dead,
pretend that I’m dead,
pretend that I’m dead,
pretend that I’m dead.
Climb up on my back, ride my spinal cord,
push me underwater to the ocean floor,
ocean floor,
ocean floor,
ocean floor.
Squeeze me for ripeness like a cantaloupe.
Scoop me up and knead me, I’m a lump of dough.
I’m a lump of dough,
lump of dough,
lump of dough.
Temple of Grandin, Temple of Grandin,
ain’t it all great in the Temple of Grandin.
Temple of Grandin, Temple of Grandin,
we’re all grand in the Temple of Grandin.
There’s a lull in the bell, a missing knell, magic spell, Murakami’s well.
And it’s just as well, I stay and dwell inside the oyster shell.
There’s a quelling of the swell, a whispered farewell, a mute carousel.
lion and gazelle, silent like a tonsure or a fontanelle.
|
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5. |
Status
02:16
|
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|
Fixed my teeth for status.
Bought a shirt for fashion.
Got tattoos for gravitas.
Grew a beard so callous.
Quit my job for kudos,
punched my dad for fame.
Lit myself on fire,
blogged about the flames.
That’s got to count for something.
Zen and pranayama,
frog-licking samadhi.
Tuning up my chakras;
projection astral body.
That’s got to count for something.
Booze my only beacon,
rides me like a donkey.
Cigarettes are sneaking
into my laundry.
Fixed my teeth for status.
|
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Video Leg Gainesville, Florida
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