Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Spirit of Grief, Spirit of Destruction*

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Circe 440

fade to yes
salt and tale
a broken heart
this afternoon some tea
I thought it funny in a pissed off way
waiting for a sign but then,
A wagged cock at passing daughters
an armless moses, looking on and
spattered with jealousy
drives past hell
on his way to daylight


even the windows are respectable, here.
the Whores?
the streetlights
the shouting army boys, all
in the middle now, a private joke
a bulge that asks to be haggled with
what half earth,
battered and brazen
brags from afar
and hangs in the balance?

*from "My Life In the Bush Of Ghosts" Eno and Byrne- 1981

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