Untitled 4270-4275 (click here to listen)

Here you go kids more music/poetry from the barnyard to your yard. This is Christopher's reading of a set of his untitled poems 4270-4275. I will say, for my part, I am really happy about the electric gtr playing on this recording. It is rare for me to be surprised with the overall quality of tone and improv. So there's that...The next set 4276-4280 will be posted in the coming days. (dig the photo...thanks ms paint!)

untitled 4270

I who have
become

as old roads

dust
kick the dreary old man
across

the road with the knapsack

and

tell him

that rose buds

petals

flowers red so

ripe and the valley

ravine

I have gone into the forest

I have

taken the root

I have eaten the glade

and oh

she shouts it can be so easy

with white paint

upon her face

untitled 4271

I can’t stand that

I’m

the guy who gets older

and can’t keep

his liquor

and its under the basement

tiles

neon gold light

and all

untitled 4272

I saw the lost children of the night

in their

bicycle parade

dead eyes

and white hair

oh my god

I recoiled

for fear I have not known

before

or since

untitled 4273

in it so far he has chased

his own

flame

and burnt his only

skin

down down

to

lidless crisps

of the mountain country

where

when a girl of thirteen

first sang

a song

oh golden chandeliers

can cripple

and crack

untitled 4274

he began to believe

if this doorway

then why not

he

can become the wooden slats

of the blinds

on

the white walled windows

but if he does

oh

the chaos of his butterfly cage

kicked loose

by

violent twelve year old boys

untitled 4275

tonight as I colored

my skin

red

I missed the bus

and

she was raped

and golden chains

some song

of broken tire

the whole world

is boiled

water

I left the bathroom

running

down empty streets

and

still I was not enough