The season's light is changing.
The view of the bay is strobing
through the cracked supports
of a crumbling viaduct.
My spine is resonating
and black cars keep pulling away
from the hole in the top of my head.
This one party town
filled with solid gold money
is building a greenhouse
on sand and wobbly bones.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
One Party Town
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1 comment:
Sheesh, is this what rock'n'roll does, honeycomb a man like that, leave him resonant and trembling like A Ventures guitar hero, come to the end of the final tremelo?
Thought of you. Rest in vibrato, Bob Bogle. Venerated. Under the wood.
"revater"
xxJen
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