city did not know. There were corpses in clown suits running across each other's
bodies on rat legs in the city. There were awkward throats moving out of habit, saying, "Pile
the bodies here and here and here."
Cheated monkeys
with jaded tongues screamed across the years, saying, "I promised to drown myself." Loud noises
choked small throats and softly, softly, like whining children who write on walls, they tumbled
over each other in the darkness of a city that sat on its buildings. And the city did not see an
old man take a hammer from a store with a broken window. And the city did not see an old man
with a hammer trying to move a city.
He swung and hit
and swung and hit but cities are dead and forever when the world ends. He broke the hammer. The
hammer broke on the concrete. And broken, he sat down like an old man and said, "I want my old
woman," and his voice was a tearing sound. "I am not an owl. I want my old woman." This is what
he said and his fists hid his eyes and his shoulders shook.
There was a man
with a book down there in the city. He was all blood and death and writing in a page and he
touched the old man on the shoulder with his book. He touched the old man on the shoulder and he
spoke. His ancient words went through the air like a knife and his book was bound in snakeskin.
But the old man had been an owl. The bookman ran away. He ran away holding his book with his
knees.
It was getting hot
like a summer-grass fire and the old man looked up. But the sky was hidden by the city. He had
come to the city to find his old woman and now he had lost the sky in the city that hid it. And
old men and owls need the sky when the world ends.
He wanted to run
away from there. He wanted to fall asleep watching the sky but he could not leave his old woman.
He could not run. His song was gone in the wind now and he could not go.
He had gone to see
the city sitting on its buildings and now the sky he could not see began to burn him. And the
darkness was crawling across his shoulders. And the moon above was there in the hidden sky, chased by dead wishes. The moon was
there. The blood moon was there, burning.
Hurting old men,
hiding its mother, the city sat on its buildings when the world ended.
And the sky came
apart like a wing tearing off.
A Horse Of A Different Technicolor
I can remember when
the years changed; I can remember when I rode a horse of a different technicolor. Now when I feel
like having a woman, I have myself changed into one. You remember me. I was Mr. and Mrs., I rode
across your screen. I danced for you. I fell off horses for you. I got shot for you. I was living
in two worlds and Jesus Christ was working the night shift. When they said do a rain dance, I did
a rain dance. When the dance called for a woman, I was one. You remember me, don't you? If you
do, tell me who I am. Am I the book? The movie? I can remember when I rode a horse of a different
technicolor. I'm making sense to you, yes I am, unless I am a movie and you are a
book.
The universe is
divided into two worlds. Now the appeal of two worlds is the fear of death. One world is the book
and there it is written, "All lives are to be divided into two sections, day and night." The
other world is the microphone and the camera and there it is recorded for playback, shining to
us, "I am the kingdom and the glory. Let the children come unto me for they shall be recreated in
my own image."
It all began in
2074, twice, once for day and once for night. This story began in 2074 where precedence became
the word as it was spoken. THE WORD. Man learned that all men had to rechannel their aggressions.
They invented spectators. They said people should be great and disinterested souls. We know the
past. We must act accordingly. Yes, let us act accordingly.
The year of 2074
was the year of the success, the all inclusion, the triumph of the wait and watch. They learned
how to make' people act
bodies on rat legs in the city. There were awkward throats moving out of habit, saying, "Pile
the bodies here and here and here."
Cheated monkeys
with jaded tongues screamed across the years, saying, "I promised to drown myself." Loud noises
choked small throats and softly, softly, like whining children who write on walls, they tumbled
over each other in the darkness of a city that sat on its buildings. And the city did not see an
old man take a hammer from a store with a broken window. And the city did not see an old man
with a hammer trying to move a city.
He swung and hit
and swung and hit but cities are dead and forever when the world ends. He broke the hammer. The
hammer broke on the concrete. And broken, he sat down like an old man and said, "I want my old
woman," and his voice was a tearing sound. "I am not an owl. I want my old woman." This is what
he said and his fists hid his eyes and his shoulders shook.
There was a man
with a book down there in the city. He was all blood and death and writing in a page and he
touched the old man on the shoulder with his book. He touched the old man on the shoulder and he
spoke. His ancient words went through the air like a knife and his book was bound in snakeskin.
But the old man had been an owl. The bookman ran away. He ran away holding his book with his
knees.
It was getting hot
like a summer-grass fire and the old man looked up. But the sky was hidden by the city. He had
come to the city to find his old woman and now he had lost the sky in the city that hid it. And
old men and owls need the sky when the world ends.
He wanted to run
away from there. He wanted to fall asleep watching the sky but he could not leave his old woman.
He could not run. His song was gone in the wind now and he could not go.
He had gone to see
the city sitting on its buildings and now the sky he could not see began to burn him. And the
darkness was crawling across his shoulders. And the moon above was there in the hidden sky, chased by dead wishes. The moon was
there. The blood moon was there, burning.
Hurting old men,
hiding its mother, the city sat on its buildings when the world ended.
And the sky came
apart like a wing tearing off.
A Horse Of A Different Technicolor
I can remember when
the years changed; I can remember when I rode a horse of a different technicolor. Now when I feel
like having a woman, I have myself changed into one. You remember me. I was Mr. and Mrs., I rode
across your screen. I danced for you. I fell off horses for you. I got shot for you. I was living
in two worlds and Jesus Christ was working the night shift. When they said do a rain dance, I did
a rain dance. When the dance called for a woman, I was one. You remember me, don't you? If you
do, tell me who I am. Am I the book? The movie? I can remember when I rode a horse of a different
technicolor. I'm making sense to you, yes I am, unless I am a movie and you are a
book.
The universe is
divided into two worlds. Now the appeal of two worlds is the fear of death. One world is the book
and there it is written, "All lives are to be divided into two sections, day and night." The
other world is the microphone and the camera and there it is recorded for playback, shining to
us, "I am the kingdom and the glory. Let the children come unto me for they shall be recreated in
my own image."
It all began in
2074, twice, once for day and once for night. This story began in 2074 where precedence became
the word as it was spoken. THE WORD. Man learned that all men had to rechannel their aggressions.
They invented spectators. They said people should be great and disinterested souls. We know the
past. We must act accordingly. Yes, let us act accordingly.
The year of 2074
was the year of the success, the all inclusion, the triumph of the wait and watch. They learned
how to make' people act
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