1. |
Amnesia by Force of Will
12:31
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I am ascending beyond Mount Peavine
I climbed through ancient cottonwood groves and fields of dusty sage
I was pierced by the blades of the desert sun
But I passed further to the backstage behind this curtain of light
Here the air turns from dry to wet, and everything drips with endless life
The power lines dotting the ridge at sunset sway in joyful resonance
Oil bursts from the ground in tiered fountains, and I spit in harmony
As the ground swirls in glistening pigments I behold
The impasto spread on the sun’s hidden face
The black square sun over the altar at those funerals
For when life speeds away and it drives
Crashing into this new world in a leopard print ferrari
And it pours its chrome bile into all my hungry orifices
But now the paint is cracking and the canvas is showing
And I run like a comet through white canyons in the inky sky
My blood mixed with linseed coursing ever faster through my body
I floor the gas pedal and peel the solid light away from its divine tapestry
And leave it streaming, tattered, caught on the exhaust pipe
Radiance evaporates with the smog behind me as I reach
Into a more pure brilliance
Torn paper against polished marble
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2. |
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Weary, not stubborn enough to keep driving on these sun-dappled streets
Asphalt flashing like the blurred strobes on a twilight stage
I pull over, windows down, still blasting another discordance
Into silent mountains
I pick out the dew of your earthen face glistening in the silvery air
While your pearly eyeshine glares back
Slicing my rusting, yet still metallized skin
I know it's rare that two makers meet each other—
Mind huntress, take the passenger’s seat
(cont.)
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3. |
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Conversations lead to ramblings: I shouldn’t be saying what I tell her
I think too much about what’s in the drain I clean around
Plastic and phlegm, little men farming ants along rivers of vegetable oil,
Climbing up ropes of grease to find me?
I told her only the garbage disposal blades keep us safe
But I don’t want to come off as weak yet
I don’t want to get into that time
I lit my tap on fire and felt St. Elmo’s blessing
I don’t want to recite the codes I translated that time
I tracked the pulses of the refinery flares
Blinking alchemical cyphers against the sky to their bloated iron brothers
Describing the geometries of demons writhing in petrochemical deposits
(cont.)
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4. |
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A fresh coat of black paint dries on the trees again
Swirling winds and warm, distant thunder give way
To a thickening wall of hail
The gray ripples against the windshield harden and crack
Broken glass covers the floor and mixes with red
A blizzard wind rushes through the hole—
The battery’s dead and the heat’s gone
Our sweat becomes icy, our chapped lips too cold to bleed
Exposed to a high hiss and a slow shattering
I twist the ignition only to hear the crack of a boot on frozen ground
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5. |
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The highway walls are no longer concrete
But tectonic strata of granite, plastic, and the gnarled remnants
Of past accidents
Stretching further into luminous strings from my endless motion
My skin is no longer flesh or steel
I’ve polymerized, extruded and lathe-cut,
Spiraling like a drill into the wall before me
Forgetful of the endless booming of heavy footsteps
Below screaming sawblade choirs
I’ve said I’ll arrive one of these days at the new Uaxuctum
When speed becomes stillness
When the road’s streaming bands all converge
To align in shimmering palatial terraces
And once all your fine vapors seep through the soil
I’ll just be watching there
I’ll be laying on the Eight Stones, cast in reinforced concrete
And my smoke will grind against them
Screeching out through kettle spouts
And my smoke will grind against them
Bellowing out through smokestacks
And my smoke will grind against them
Laughing
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