I have no tradition
I feel lonely
I must build and rebuild
my personal everyday
but the continuity is not here simply quite simply
doubt: What do I want?
As a hetero-white American man without defect, I don’t think
I’m supposed to even ask. I have
everything I have.
Right but maybe
maybe you’ll say I shouldn’t feel guilty
Or maybe you’ll think ill of me for being self-pitying.
What are you talking about?
What is the underlying organization?
expansion that comes with music: poignancy
The central message that appears and fades is stronger unnamed.
The individual plays in a small black room inside a large white space
We reform and deform and the angels and
the chariots and the empty form
revolve invisibly about and impose themselves upon us
and we keep sucking this bottle keep trying to get laid
and the band plays the music and the smell wafts
and there is a lonely reference of the past
poet riding his horse backwards into the brambles
and the speed increases and everything runs better with grease.
Hello I’m speaking.
Not the poet but his work. This
accretion of script that doesn’t really cut it.
Cut it up put it back together
go on saying this trying to get to some next level, not beyond, simply next,
Here is how the world ends,
everything we want but no notion of why or underlying system.
Maybe there is no better way
beyond the ‘stone’ of a referent
a personal rune: the shaking,
soft stone rising out of the loam
spitting secretions and
desecrations with no mind but such force
the hot stone to the touch burns
our focus wavers but the stone remains