Against objectivity

Some notes on the frontier that invades you for singing

To the Race Industry in Crisis

Tell us again about how

the horse is alright.

Okay.



I used the trappings of Kabuki theatre, mime technique, fringe New York, a British view of American street energy, meticulous carelessness, and not needing you

To look like my name, land free and (the home of the bravery, recess for the slave god, and take it all over to the bottle, especially the people living for the bottle who found jesus and I'm hoping he gets lost again in the crowd at my show so he can finally have some time to be himself and have a drink

Invent us a no-name Jazz messiah who boasts on the climb and country enough to know about the divine slowness of perfection and how the end of distractions is a weapon we'll use on city one day. Now what

I'm not part of rock and roll, I have my own identity

Just beyond. Just after. Just before. Just faster Have you just as fooled as you have me gold grilled and drooling with seizure from your notion I'm yours when I work-for-hire on some songs to get out of the yard. Now we've dug up those contracts and won all the lawsuits and all you have is awe, shoot, and them niggers,

why'd you do it

I used to hear all your forbidden laughter about how genius and regal we are in private but there's a market for savage until everything went public all of a sudden it's not funny

(Can we cheer. Okay)

Drunk women in a rum shop

The light of the world (that's my favorite)

When everything like twilight in the tropics balances and trembles on its own pivot

The outlaw appeal

of a formerly banned fruit

The Origin of Gentle Rain

A phone is about to ring inside
I rush home and the door is you coughing up my new blood like a cluttered dimension, I shrug, unacceptable
big hug, long hug, hallmark cards in the rubble of us
not quite remote enough to be bohemia but we go far and it seems so long
There are still VCRs where we are, nestled inside-out the treason of a conk and curl, coughing us up as stuttering magnets
I don't want much stuff but I want everything
to come down and kiss me on the palm so tenderly it's almost violent
and unrelenting
we're both too shy to step outside this feeling, feeling this happy in the open makes us both feel dumb
and suspicious like that one spread umbrella on the street and the friendly ghost beneath it, afraid something good might happen