further adventures at the bleeding edge of sanity and inexorable, throbbing chaos, with hummingbirds

By Laurie Anderson.

by Leonard Cohen. single take after many weeks rest.

I swear I didn’t make this up. You can look for it anywhere. The wind was still blowing outside, relative humidity plummeted to 4%. This is a 5-dimensional piano squashed into 2D+t. The world ended long ago. Still, I feel safe here.

A moment stolen from the wind. Shadows, indirection. Afternoon epiphanies. Wind noise should be considered integral to the experience. August, 2010, East Jesus, CA.

A moment stolen from the day. End of August, 2010, East Jesus, CA.

Boys like to play radio.

i’m not wiser, nor smarter,

nor better than you,

the twenty years between
us only
means
that i’ve
had a few more years to see

the sprawl devour the hills,
my teeth rot in my mouth,

our bodies dissolve to pus,
people disemboweling each other
amid flashy smiles,
traitors going in velvet robes,
the house getting it all in the end,
my experience fade into amber liquid and fireworks,
electronic scrap, dusty books
and the smell of a forgotten
old man.

twenty years closer
than you
to the bad breath of creation,
the stinking birthplace of life,
the beckoning maw of infinity

and twenty years farther
from the innocence
you wear like an iPod
at your beautiful, unchallenged

virginal flystrike.

it’s the uncertainty

you feel
when the ground suddenly
falls from beneath you

electric warmth,
erotic nausea, anticipation
of the new world

and your place within it

your battle scars mean nothing here
you must begin anew, and get your

heart broken
all over again.