swans

"Doesn't really matter, you know, what kind of nasty names people invent for the music. But, uh, folk music is just a word, you know, that I can't use anymore. What I'm talking about is traditional music, right, which is to say it's mathematical music, it's based on hexagons. But all these songs about, you know, roses growing out of people's brains and lovers who are really geese and swans are turning into angels - I mean, you know, they're not going to die. They're not folk music songs. They're political songs. They're already dead."
Jude, I'm Not There.

Illustration of goose from here.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

pendulum

my head swings heavy
normally i wouldn't notice it
but i can feel the weight of my brain
cracking against my cranium

i think in petroleum
this is a study in oil
time is a dictator
its cuckoos pull my eyelids closed

enter a curtain of sunlight
and the curtain call of a late night

i sleep like a gray comforter
i sleep like a carpeted floor
i sleep like a month ago
i sleep like eight thousand miles
written by M at 12:19 PM

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