Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Thursday, July 16, 2009

22nd century waltz/ tremors xxx

"this isn't bitterness, it's merely a tremor of the earth"
-frank o'hara

all these pretty women here without me in a vacated groucho-marx room. we pick up situations and put them down right quick.
making bad decisions to the sound of white vodka crackling and mute telivision movie sets big screened onto a panorama of skyline windows.
settle down, settle down, son. the river is pretty deep and there's a lot of sticks fr sticking,
the cash trees are on fire and the ashes catch on children't parasols dancing a 22nd century waltz in what looks like rain. we sow the stuff in the soft ground and reap nothing, catching the invisible sprouts in our teeth and swallowing easily.
the bartender watches this phenemonon through the window. he doesn't bat an eyebrow.
he's used to seeing a world drunk off its ass,
kids picking the cigarette flowers and adults making bonfires out of free-mason greenslips.
he's almost used to the invented vergabe of the vulture-faced american surreal.
almost, but all those frowns, inverted and otherwise, are an intense archaic against a bad lit movie plot, the shades all drawn down.

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