Meeting at the River / Gall of Fortune to Hit

Gall, of fortune but not of froth/

Wrath to be had in the river of time but not

Where it sits, naturally, decadently.

There is no awl or owl or whatthefuck in this river.

Swim a-shyly and dawn on the crest of the rabbit hole that you

Were a weed in the sunset drippings of my towellette

Don’t forget we met at the Sundance Festival.

Now, now…

Now, I know how it is to be a playful thing

No one wants to go where the natural sets in stead of the synthetic

Too drawn-out and loathsome to be meaningful

Tacks litter the landscape

Drool drips to the floor

Dead Horizon As Yet of Unknown, Once Again

Please start music before proceeding to read poem for full experience:

 

 

I don’t know if putting this here will maximize the value

I’m all for optimization

But do I have any other choice?

 

Back in the day–think Ancient Greece–you had to go to great lengths to become a leader

It was one in too many who broke through

Now they sell leadership certificates through common coursework by the dozen

Who wants to be a leader?

Just take a class.

 

One kick in too many asses

I’m not trying to gross anyone out

I’m just playing the imitation game

Decoding my own mind’s electrophysiological functions

I’m the laziest I’ve ever been

I won’t ever make it

 

This terminates the creative train of thought

Who strains backwards and forward for a schiff of wheat

I’m not learning anything

I am a dead end

 

Without being too dreary

The overcoming won’t come for me

I’m in the underclear

Narry a dander light on the horizon

Narry my mellow father mother son

 

Dandruff n shampoo

Peak-a-boo

 

Dandruff n shampoo

Peak-a-boo


I’m sorry guys! Time dilation! I realized the poem is too short–that it took longer to write it than it does to read it, and therefore it is not “in sync” with la musique. Apologies possible extension in the future.