30,000 rail cars add to the sound
to the crowd
to famine
Ingenuous rebel animals along the brush line
waiting for us
to eat us
to shit us
then to board
How will I meet you son, when you are grown-
Will you have a gun or a stone in your hand?
Will the monitors of care and persistence give you insight into your own living?
Will there be skyscrapers and plastics?
Will there be warm cars and ice cubes?
Will there be Cake?
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
CODEBOOK 1
The toys on the slab have no power to them, yet sing
Cloud Missions dot the way,
spelling out
"Fix Yourself"
Wife, children-all asleep
Hello, cities
The people on their flats have no song in them, I checked
Spires of Therapy rise up,
calling out
"Don't Forget Us"
Drug Dealers, their musician friends- all awake
Good-bye, Aeroplanes
Cloud Missions dot the way,
spelling out
"Fix Yourself"
Wife, children-all asleep
Hello, cities
The people on their flats have no song in them, I checked
Spires of Therapy rise up,
calling out
"Don't Forget Us"
Drug Dealers, their musician friends- all awake
Good-bye, Aeroplanes
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