Untitled 4276-4280 (click here to listen)

As promised, here is the next set of untitled poems recorded by Christopher and I (may I refer you to yesterday's post?). This set of ten untitled poems was a lot of fun to work on. The music is a combination of low guitar buzz/drone and randomly edited "found" sounds from iTunes radio. Can you hear the sound of tomorrow, today?

untitled 4276

it is the grizzly bear

of the meadow

come

along for honey

that

grows strong in your

guts

until

then

you see the midnight glass

and the bartender

and

he smiles and takes you home

and begs for

the wealth of heaven

to spill upon

a lonely bathroom floor

untitled 4277

if all time

is the whole

of the universe

blackened

you trip

past the veil

of the bride

but you’re just a little

boy

still

and you are twenty-five

and your poetry is

rankles of

paper

kicked curbside by the sweeping

efforts

of

menacing

posses

and hipsters

untitled 4278

carefully

I miss

the misspelling

of my

name

and avoid the arrogance

of

god in his

wooden house

untitled 4279

cocaine

kids

peeling

their

faces

from

the

sidewalk

are

not

Sunday

afternoons

but

billions

of

burst

spiders

under

the

cover

of

a

girl

in

New York

trying

to

ditch

school

the

next

day

untitled 4280

the red bicycle

in

the apartment

slumbered

in

new

way

my girlfriend

told

me

this in

the kitchen

with boiling

water

oh

hot sun summer.

she tells me to wake up or the parade

the

parade

is all

I can

have