I am way too introspective
Mar. 29th, 2001 09:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
honeymonsterMaybe I'm Amazed
Just because there is music
piped into the most false of revolutions
it cannot clean these senses
of slow wireless death crawling
from a slick mirror
1/8th it's normal size . . .
Marty was found dead by the man literally
blue 12 hours after falling out
at the foot of the Cloisters
with its millions in rare tapestry
and its clear view of the Hudson
and even testing your blue pills
over and over to reverse
my slow situations
I wind up stretched across the couch
still nodding with Sherlock Holmes
examining our crushed veins
Richard Brautigan,
I don't care who you are fucking
In your clean California air
I just don't care
Though mine are more beautiful anyway
(though more complex perhaps)
and we have white flowers too
right over our window on 10th St.
like hands that mark tiny x's
across infinity day by day
but even this crumb of life
I eventually surface toward
continues to nod as if I see you all
thoughtlessly
through a carefully inverted piece
of tainted glass
shattered in heaven
and found on these streets
--Jim Carroll
I'm reading The Mists of Avalon. I last read it about nine years ago, and it's been on my favorites shelf ever since. The scope of it eats at my sense of self, though. Maybe I will take a break tonight for one of the poetry books that showed up today from a bargain catalog..
Just because there is music
piped into the most false of revolutions
it cannot clean these senses
of slow wireless death crawling
from a slick mirror
1/8th it's normal size . . .
Marty was found dead by the man literally
blue 12 hours after falling out
at the foot of the Cloisters
with its millions in rare tapestry
and its clear view of the Hudson
and even testing your blue pills
over and over to reverse
my slow situations
I wind up stretched across the couch
still nodding with Sherlock Holmes
examining our crushed veins
Richard Brautigan,
I don't care who you are fucking
In your clean California air
I just don't care
Though mine are more beautiful anyway
(though more complex perhaps)
and we have white flowers too
right over our window on 10th St.
like hands that mark tiny x's
across infinity day by day
but even this crumb of life
I eventually surface toward
continues to nod as if I see you all
thoughtlessly
through a carefully inverted piece
of tainted glass
shattered in heaven
and found on these streets
--Jim Carroll
I'm reading The Mists of Avalon. I last read it about nine years ago, and it's been on my favorites shelf ever since. The scope of it eats at my sense of self, though. Maybe I will take a break tonight for one of the poetry books that showed up today from a bargain catalog..
