Roll Call/Yellow Bird
Day's Gonna Come
The sum of all other obsessions of other people: James Dean’s polka-dot ashtray chest begat a bunch of flowers hung from a hand; tied to a bedpost (nature is a language), begat a fat kid in New Jersey who stops on his way home from school to lie in the center of a football field and think: Spaceboy; the killer in me is the killer in you. Alice fell down the rabbit hole and found herself a new person, with a camera and a teddy and a blue dress, eyes like hurricanes, reaching for the moon. Lady Lazarus knew the faces of her doctors, but another man drew the patients and wouldn’t look that nurse in the face, because she wasn’t bare enough. “Gatsby was a real great guy” – Trimalchio lies at the bottom of the water between them: green ball; green light. You can wish only on the star you can’t reach.
I bought an acoustic guitar. Does it sing? Well, when I unwrapped it I found that it was lovely enough, but in the cavity there was the skeleton of a small bird, a few yellow feathers still stuck to the meat. I do not know who it was that shot its wings through with arrows every time they wished to die, but it wasn’t me – I left it out in the field to return to the soil. When the day comes, it will matter more than me.
I bought an acoustic guitar. Does it sing? Well, when I unwrapped it I found that it was lovely enough, but in the cavity there was the skeleton of a small bird, a few yellow feathers still stuck to the meat. I do not know who it was that shot its wings through with arrows every time they wished to die, but it wasn’t me – I left it out in the field to return to the soil. When the day comes, it will matter more than me.