Hear it LIVE w/ Robin Coe @ Loopline: Lost & Found Vol. 6!
I see you, Creature, on the bus, belching against the window.
I see you, wrapped around the sodden moon.
I see you, a black-silver statue – magnifying, reducing, extracting, exacerbating human drama.
There you are, not one of us, mind you, but I see you.
I see you piping though tubes, garbling this, garbling that, flowing onward, seeping into hearts.
I see you, making your case, pontificating, barking at night in the mirror.
I see you, carrying your club, hidden behind your veil like a knock-kneed bride, swigging your flask, directing your limbs in a translucent orgy of light and direction.
In space, underwater, no sound, no sense – you make me believe, Creature. I see you and I never look away.
I want to examine you.
To rewind you till you screech,
To grapple with your eyes,
To unsheathe you,
To feed upon you,
To lick your oyster-like parts.
See, always, through nowhere, you’re walking, you’re talking, you’re: Lolling, frothing, baking, seething, breathing, clinging, loving, extending, expanding, using and lying.
Stripes? Disguises? Whatever.
Me? I wear a nametag. I wear some skin.
You? You’re sneaky. You’re in the rain, in the bushes, laughing it off silently through your hair, forsaking the seasons, bouncing off gravity, smelling like whiskey, escaping through your pores.
I’m onto you.
But I won’t tell.
Because I see us in time.
I see the rush inward, the swirl of our fragments.
I see us in time – drumming, fucking, dreaming and dismembering – with no money, no fame, no past or projection.
I see us in time, Creature: a stalactite, a stalagmite.
I see us in time, in the dark, in the final cave.
I see us in time, half-blinded, untended, unblended –
Zap-zapping the blackness between us.