we are all graffiti artists and poets
middle-aged lovers and social historians
oral historians and half wits
sometime academics and modern-day plebeians
punk rock heathens and riot grrl feminists
once, i let my love spiral out of control like the undiscriminating kudzu vine
once, i let my love become consumed by a dark heart that could never shine
once, i let my love be controlled by a pragmatic gray brain that always kept tabs of the time
once, i let my love shun love because i was a dime short a penny and she was short three more
i thought of you today/thought of a memory/downstairs at the 400 Bar/the creaky floorboards/you wanted me to stay/i probably should have stayed/and taken that risk...
No temor, no perspire: Heaven is here now, in Minneapolis.
-John Berryman, Dreamsong 119
lightrail and broadband
but the bridges don't burn they crumble
thepinkfeatherboa runs from osama
Pre-9/11 westernunionmoneygram on cedar
Le Tigre does hip-hop jamz in Loring
you're smoke "maybe" heroin on Franklin
Uncle Pat wants you to be a skybluecop
you just want to successfully outargue them
leave on kirbypuckettbobbleheadday
but by then you know everybody
meet incoming wisconsin afro at the bus stop
she knows you got the goods.