It
all comes through as fast and hard.
Skin is
red and torn and painted.
The band
behind crowds stands
still.
Motionless engrossed
girls
are dancers, beers from their arms,
at the
edge of anyplace wherever
knees
get out, shoulders; whatever,
handling,
whipt, dropt to dance there.
At front
they bounce against the stage.
Black
swung hair gets wrapped in lighting.
No beat
to grab. Heat as hearts quicken.
Salvaging
animal rhythm, bodies are water.
Singer
sings from the throat and lips. No
words
into the microphone but
bodies
of water, fishes in light.
Spiders
from her ears bounce
as her
head bops. she loses and keeps beat.
Black
gypsy skirts fall from dirty jean jackets.
Color
patches sewn. Soft wanton fringed
shoulder
drops from hinge. The clockwork
breaks.
Her power is elbow
reflex
at will. On stage,
slowly
dying young he is yellow,
bash toothed,
drooling. They call him back.
She falls
from her rubber hip
Here is
living. Sweat from temples
slides
down necks. The air here, grinning.
The rage,
hilarious. Zombie eyes around her,
the sweet
dead spy.
|
|
They crumble
time here, beating their
birth
against tables torn from the foundation
loud.
In the secret basement
sparks
rebound against an ashtray.
This impact,
the answer to the
carpet
jungle, ornament of torn
bodies
and hair. She leans,
an earringed
cheetah. She
swings
from her drink like a fine limbed
baboon.
Hair in drinks carries wet music
through.
|
|
Her backbone
is an inbent wand.
You can
feel his arm ascend.
All are
willingly hypnotised under
the spell
of limbs. The hotel calls him.
Anger
enveloping him viscous, intentional.
Dressed
in wood, in the mid city where
painted
words fall from t shirts,
where
children bash body to bone
the sweetest
sound is chaotic.
The sweetest
look is gazed
into his
abyss, into his wide eyed
dream
town.
|
