FAST WIRES RISE SINGING:
Fast wires rise from the jacket to the head, singing in the ears.
Garland of electric roses, halos of the curious, a kiss not meant
to be seen, a sucker for a 60’s sound. It’s cold out there, warm
in here, someone turned the light, the heat on. Considerate for our
benefit before we even got out of bed. Watch the world, see the
animals, mountains of dirt where machines dig themselves a hole.
See the flood, birds floating content in the midst of suffering.
See smoke rising from longboats resting in marinas lined with
derelict trees waiting for the miracle. Towers of brutish wood
piled on scrubland, define the edge of cities. Black metal glimpsed,
concealed in weeds, watches us, quietly rusting, silently rubbing
it’s self out.
Listening to Lake Radio