ON THE TURNTABLE AS WE SPEAK

I’ll Cry For You
Whore
Get Out
God Damn The Sun
Thank You

Swans

All afternoon they sat around dreaming up punishments for one another.
It was one pleasure after another. They couldn’t wait for the evening to come.

Well,

what they lack in melody
they make up for in originality.

And what they lack in originality
they don’t make up at all.

We like to think when we approach the ocean we
are returning home. We sometimes slip into sentiment.

Today being the beginning of a new year
(the 48th? perhaps in a joke)
it would be well to clean. So I clean.

But too much has already been thrown thoughtlessly away.

Do we wonder also what is meant by “life’s delirium”?
Surely it must mean the realization that dumplings don’t make themselves.

Having put words into the mouths of babes it now hurts to be unable to utter even the most basic of platitudes. Or to understand how to get from here to there, wherever there is.

If only I had taken my father’s advice and married my mother life would have been different and I doubt I would have demolished all the hovels whose destruction bears my signature.

I like to think I’ve thought of everything.

We like to think the fires we start will burn their way
into history and your hearts. We welcome Winter with open arms.