1. |
St. Thomas Abilify
02:13
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There is a father inside somewhere.
A broken old master--
one who can teach and feel.
Not this pill
this pill-swallowing shell.
A hollow, sweating
ex-man who sits
and mumbles
“trees are renewable”
over, over
until he loses his job
and the son is
left with a sunken chair
for a father,
an empty bird
in an empty cage.
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2. |
Drone Divalproex
01:18
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3. |
David's Slavery
02:50
|
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4. |
Maw
01:10
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5. |
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We went to pet
the ducks and pigs.
Later I swallowed all
the abilify I could find.
The goats chewed my belt,
slept in the shade.
We flicked the cow's utters
and I was led to a trough.
The doctors raped
my stomach with charcoal.
What a horse,
all muscle and hoof.
You belong in this barn,
the nurse said.
I lifted my testicles for her.
Lifted my feet.
Hair in strings
like straw
from the vomit.
My stomach full
from the pellets I am fed.
There are hay rides
shuttling pigs to the hospital.
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6. |
Drone M.Gira
02:29
|
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7. |
Greely's Loss
01:48
|
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8. |
Divalproex II
01:18
|
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9. |
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10. |
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11. |
I Can't Stop Thinking
01:16
|
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12. |
Drone Michael
01:28
|
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13. |
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14. |
Our Bodies
01:26
|
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15. |
Teeth to Barrel
01:56
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16. |
Where My Yolk Ends
02:29
|
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Cars shooting fluids
over backs like whales.
Was it a car?
Or just two people
humping along
along the lake
the lake swallows
the skyline
skyline grey
you call me
call, response
a “fuck you and your friends”
I walk out
the moving car
the humping folk
yolk runny
you'd gag on my eggs
eyes skyline grey
cars like whales or
whatevers
lake whatever
flapping to our right,
the skyline reflecting,
falling into or onto itself.
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17. |
Vic Morrow
02:15
|
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There is some man
in my car
I see from
a window,
fooling in my
back seat
like a seal
with a knife
juggled on its nose.
The man does not belong.
This is a backseat, damnit!
Not some cave
not some dark to dance in,
flowering all over
this backseat my backseat
“I see you!”
I yell
“I see you!”
But the man is
still juggling that knife
with a wrist,
and I need to
throw pants on
before running out,
covered in oh
so many socks
oh so many men
in my backseat now.
all the same
one, weird man
now smashing a forehead
through my headrest.
These socks falling off
my shoulders
like Vic Morrow and co.
This head now through
a window
barking at the man
“put down the wrist!
Barking
“put down the wrist!”
and the man,
Vic Morrow,
and me
all fooling together,
shoving what socks
we have through
my headrest.
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