Daily Archives: April 7, 2012

The Dream Of Stasis

We awaken to 
Elvis Costello’s
“Miracle Man.”

What do you want
to happen next?

Argue again
about why the radio
was left on all night.

And what do you want 
to happen next?

Get over it, then claim
our inheritance
from a spooky old nun.

What do you want 
to happen next?

 Go on an adventure
with a better car — 
something bitchin’ and rugged.

Then what do you want 
to happen next?

Take back every instance
where I have ever used
the word “bitchin,”
and still get to keep the car…

Then what do you want 
to happen next?

Stop being so frivolous

and what do you want 
to happen next?

and easily distracted

and what do you want 
to happen next?

and get back to the story
we started with
about the adventure and the car.

and what do you want 
to happen next?

Oh, I want to be
less tired of adventure

I want our inheritance
to fall into our laps

Want the radio to wake us up
with music we both love

and boy do we need a better car
Something we can make love in

when we pause
from our adventures

and what do you want 
to happen next?

Not a thing
Nothing at all
Let’s just stop right there
for now and always 

Let’s take the money
and buy a Thomas Kinkade house
full of butterscotch light
It’s soaked into everything
Let’s eat it all up

Let’s even eat
the couch
Swallow its little spongy
yellow chunks

Wonder about what 
might happen next


Heavy Metal

right now
there ought to be
heavy metal welling
from the floor and
rising to my knees
at the least

because if I am too hurt
my own karma and enter
this place again
I ought to have
the proper soundtrack
for how sludgy that walk
feels

right now only shredded trust 
and hoarse-creamed-lava on toast
will do

I want to be in here
when it burns
and smell it burning
before anyone else can

I want the burning
to have
incoherence as a soundtrack
(I want to know
the words)

I want to stumble away
fall on fire far
from the main blaze
set off the stubborn second fire
die before too much time
goes by 

I hated
being here as
I hate
dying here
I hate the red and the black 
of it all
the crunch of it
the distortion of it
chug
chug chug
chug