This place is damp and ghostly
I am already gone.
And the halls were lined
with the disembodied and the dustly wings,
which fell from flesh gasplessly.
And I go where the trees go,
and I walk from a higher education
(for now, and for hire).
It beats me, but I do not know.
And it beats me, but I do not know.
It beats me, but I do not know.
I do not know.
Palaces and stormclouds
and the rough, straggly sage, and the smoke
and the way it will all come together
(in quietness, and in time).
And you laws of property
you free economy
and you unending afterthoughts,
you could've told me before —
Never get so attached to a poem
you forget truth that lacks lyricism;
and never draw so close to the heat
that you forget that you must eat.
This place is damp and ghostly
I am already gone.
And the halls were lined
with the disembodied and the dustly wings,
which fell from flesh gasplessly.
And I go where the trees are,
and I walk from a higher education
(for now, and for hire).
It beats me, but I do not know.
It beats me, but I do not know.
It beats me, but I do not know.
I do not know.
Palaces and stormclouds
the rough, straggly sage, and the smoke
and the way it will all come together
(in quietness, in time).
Bitch, you laws of property
bitch, you free economy
bitch, you unending afterthoughts,
you could've told me before —
Never get so attached to a poem
you forget truth that lacks lyricism;
never draw so close to the heat
that you forget that you must eat.
In order to make the music
seems I must break so many things.
Turn over like bracken and sea-shrapnel
grazed by the tongue of a beetle-green sea.
Let each note be
a full-bodied song:
enough fingers,
enough toes,
skin to cover the rich, bloody beat,
enough belly,
enough feet.