All Cut Up

“I’ll read my books and I’ll drink coffee and I’ll listen to music, and I’ll bolt the door."

All Cut Up

No longer young

but still howling in the subway

pond'ring frailty of words

throwing poetry and watches off the roof

 

Still racing death

cigarettes no longer lighted

dressed for lunch but habits show

hear, the wind blows traces of the tambourine

 

  Now look at you, kid

  where did you go

  your shoes can tell the tales

  of all the windings of the road

 

  Now look at you, kid

  where have you been

  was it just words or Blakean visions

  that you've seen

 

All out of time

on holyboy and madman road

alone along the way

where life is faster than a heart can beat

 

Not giving in

another dance beneath the diamond sky

spinning ceaselessly 

mixing pop and politics with poetry

 

 

"They live in nests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are."

J.M. Barrie (1906) Peter and Wendy, chapter 17

Currently reading

Finnegans Wake
Seamus Deane, James Joyce
Better Than Sex: Confessions of a Political Junkie (Gonzo Papers, #4)
Hunter S. Thompson
Eine Frage der Zeit
Alex Capus
The Underground Railroad
Colson Whitehead
Die Entzifferung alter Schriften und Sprachen
Ernst Doblhofer
Tarantula
Bob Dylan
Ship of Theseus
J.J. Abrams
What I Loved
Siri Hustvedt
Jerusalem: The Biography
Simon Sebag Montefiore
Christopher Isherwood Diaries Volume 1
Christopher Isherwood