by Ryan Adams
in the name of the future
because
fuck you and your sleeping wordless criticism
and
that path before me is lit with possibility
and lore
and my cup is not full because it is not a cup
it is a life
it is a heart
and me
I am trying to show you something
about yourself
not me
that a person can do anything
and
that is what hope is
so,
with all due respect,
fuck you if you dismiss this
because it is a process
and
I accept
if you discount what it has to say
but if I draw a line
and say
what have you done today
be prepared
because while you are sleeping
I am with the sunlight
and the life
and joy
joy will rise in the names
Orange-Burst
Orange-Burst knows–
full-tilt knows, bumper car sparks knows
beach bum salty hair in eyes–knows
that I am here
under it.
Made of sunlight
Orange-Burst is
and all “Nun-ya-business-esque”
because it rained
and
I have a thing for lamps.
Lights–lightbulbs–signs with lights–
you name it–
I have a thing.
Not digital or laser though.
Working ones–
Ones where you have to be careful or
DAMN
that small piece comes off the rods
those tiny metal legs
extending up
and the connection is lost forever
I’d cry if they turned off the Chrysler
cry baby tears
but maybe I wouldn’t know
sometimes
sometimes I can’t get out of bed.
I spend almost every waking hour absolutely alone.
Orange-Burst knows.
I love it.
It laughs
out loud with light
as a heaven might
and
a man needs friends at 6 a.m.
and I don’t work anywhere
but here
so
Orange-Burst–
off we go.
Fast As Fuck
Maybe all you meant to say was,
“gosh, what a waste to see a good man lose his faith”
and that is why
when I got lost
and you knew,
you told me to write,
because I was very sad
and a sad man is a sad thing
too sad for words
maybe
but his own
so
While they thumb for a dollar now
and loose change
when the offering plate comes around
silver
and charity-bound
I am dumping collections
entire passages of a life
because
I dug the ditch
I roofed the house
I bagged the groceries
I got fired
I sung a song
I broke myself
I broke others
and now
now I want to be, NO, BEAT that idea
that a man does not change
also
like an athlete
or a machinist
I want to know how much my spirit can lift
how fast a heart can go
and
how slow a world can turn
when frozen by the violent twists
of a dream
gone thuder-tornado-thuNder tornato
even when I misspell
so
Maybe all you meant to say was,
“gosh, what a waste to see a good man lose his faith”
but I heard you
a bunch of ways
now after-while a buncha ways
and
this is the work
and
the work will not change
unlike me
fast as a fucking scene
inside a t.v.
the size of a galaxy.
Pay Up, and Let the Kids Play You Sissy
It looks like the mirror-house was glass
… “fuck”
the rumbles must be low
to be grumbles muttered
because a truth was told
and stomachs were hungry
not yet lunch
and there was a bunch of shit on about war
war
fuck that
go to war, kill others, yourself, whatever
for “safety”
but I have never felt safe around anyone
who wanted to kill me
or whom
I thought might die needlessly
all that blood
and this feeling we have a soul and there might be a God
in fact
that there might be a rather large presentation
scientific
mathematic
ready behind us,
whatever made our parents
and you know
whatever also made them love and then laugh
fuck
take baths and talk
and make us,
it might be a bad idea to forget you did not measure you
and cut you out of a cloth
and seed yourself in a field of flesh
and fill your veins
which spider-hatched
into a nebula
of tangible webs
before you were even given a name
and declare yourself a God
who punishes
because
and if only this
because
if one stands behind you and after you
imagine his legion
and in your slow-ass monday-morning mind
imagine what darkness
falls under that kind of light
and
remember
soon it will be collection day, either way
and you,
you are what you will be using
when that receipt is handed to you
and someone will pay
ok?
good.
How Spirits Sail
Winter is so fucking over
so fucking over
in here
so last year
I don’t have time for you
but love you now
love you still
but removed myself
Intensive care unit typewriter
station on full alert
maybe manic but harmless
and less hurt
Pain can be taken from a place
like in a heart
in its last season
and moved to the knuckles
Hands in the dirt getting way dirty
digging into something
looking for evidence
of life in circles
I stand still and watch me
I revolve perfectly like a planet
inside a system of myself
and release a faction
I gang myself up sort of
because those colors on a dress
and the life under it or outside
is boozy and makes me yucked
Nobody in this place is even aware
of who is borrowing
from where
who is touched and by what
And that whole thing is madness
if you know you are the name
to a life inside a desired light
With eyes like yours and a mouth
and ears and arms and legs
and worries and fellowship
raised on shores you did not see
Because, we got here separately
that is how it works
how spirits sail.
Fuck That Noise, Jimmy Shoetaps
Let’s go up and down
like me
and my moods, or yours and someone else’s too
and see if we can build some rollercoasters
no seagulls ever got to sit on
for the clattering rails
of words and heartbeats
all in perfect time
with the wave
and then the next wave
as it crashes into our beach
where we go
not always together
still
our electric park of thought
and
you know, fuck it
ride ’em all
at least once
or twice
for the laughs.
otherwise
the dust will gather
and on the metal
rust will settle
and I’ll be up here fixing this shit
forever
and
you know,
fuck that noise, Jimmy Shoetaps.
Asshole
What an asshole.
Somebody was born today and you went and built a boxing arena.
What an asshole.
Sure, poetry and art are certainly not charity but if YOU built it
and
it’s your wallet that gets lined with unicorn feathers
or you were in a position to TEACH not LEAD
and you
showed a child it was possible to bleed
then when that First Punch goes out
shouldn’t YOUR FACE be the one?
huh?
Is that how it oughta be,
for the balance to belong to the floor
and to set an example
before you have to even the score … ?
You don’t care, do you?
No.
So you will now be happy and certainly sleep easy and of course
get fucked royally
but if by other royalty
still …
What an asshole.
What an asshole you are,
swallowing yourself in shit.
Garbage Scepter
Sour Crystals form
and the kings
the kings of the alleys and NOT the streets
the streets outside them
hold their staffs
their scepters
and loot
in sack cloth
to reckon what is theirs
and by their staff
they draw a day
and they draw a night
and we know
we who are not of the living in those boxes of garbage cans
we know
this is their kingdom.
Old Flowers
Old flowers
Break like eggs
in a rented room
with a slow bed
This church rising up
like old men
surrounded by houses
all new like children
With a rain-blasted steeple
fit for vampires
Christ
it makes me sick
and my stomach screams
because it isn’t working anymore
like my skin was crawling with bugs
I cannot see
interrupting me
and my shitty dreams
Apples, bananas, and pears in my green glass heart
rot quietly along to a beat
my legs crossed
my typing foot
banging inside the desk
from my wild typing foot–feet–
tired from over-sleep
with a mouth full of smoke and rose petal
tea and eyes following an electric tower
someplace over the water
the car swings back and forth wildly
minus driver
or a road to guide her
I tell lies to get inside her
if only to turn the key
to an off position
and let it happen–sparing somebody
Ten days ago the water went
into the hole where it sits
like an entire city arranged
on a dirty dinner plate
on a tray made of clay turning dirt
from humidity and hurt
for broken men who hurl with knotted shirts
stinging themselves like bees
looking into mirrors
the image of an enemy
someplace in the middle millionties
with their legs tied
and wasted lipstick girls laughing their wallets off
turning money into bags
barely between the cars,
rushing,
glassy like the sun was coming out on repeat inside
but not really
with electric wombs
those rooms were made for sleeping
not research for alibis not worth keeping
star-lined and straight
like a military bed
at 8 a.m.
there are no coincidences, said my friend
who bathes in light
but joined a cult by accident one night
outside
streets on streets on streets
like orgies
for starving feet
a picture of what is mine wrapped up in her mother’s arms
above the light
which happily
descended from me
as I too dwelt
lower
before it rose
and it is now always turned on
All-Fucking*night
and me
I break like eggs in a rented room
with a slow bed
I break like eggs
or old flowers
damn
fuck
pity
shame
I will never be mine
for the never being yours
or ours.
Summer
summer is a state of mind
a smelly fish
no meat
all scales
that television of yours
has harpoons
and they breach the whale
your sea
an angry field of static
disconnected from the door
I see the outside
from the inside
but go noplace
near there anymore
landfill is a sky
sky is full of swallows
filling your cup
poison
how do you even spell that
cleaning your plate
thoroughly
everything you do, so perfect and pretty
and never showing up
for the always being late
this place is empty kind of
sans love–home-esqueness pose
without you
I look at the lights I hung
I see the outside of my apartment
but from below
not above
and I see traffic way too heavy
from mistakes
and words used
turned like iron weights on ankles
and me
inside like too many bodies in the trunk
to hide
us living
but summer is a state of mind
and I am going
and willingly
forever
so say goodbye to
this me
while I am still yours
before the dirt comes out from under my nails
and I no longer feel shitty
or
beyond the reach of God.
Whatever Makes Her Happy
I sat with her in a movie theater
midday
friday
falling asleep
someplace between my seat
and her shoulder
with clouds passing in the frame
since that day
things have never been anything worse
but not the same
days are born
they revolve
but they do not change
–eternity is here–
–and here–
Our soda is too big for us
Our popcorn might as well be on fire
because it is anywhere but in her mouth
my mouth
christ my mouth
or anyone else’s inside this place
inside them
she or I
replaced by another shadow
or shadowy face
and
My clothes are dirty
My mind is not in charge
I had a few reservations
in several areas of interest
but I am the ticket
and I turned the plane around
I didn’t show
I just didn’t.
Inside you I have every one of you,
demonic assholes tearing and screaming
the housing projects come down
like a video
no posse
no cars
and the women in the lower districts laugh
and taunt us as we go
because the way I talk is like gunfire
and I am fractured with loud parts
army clothes
and my face is loud
violent crowd sound loud
and spitting vowels
this is all a bit much
and confusing
and
well
whatever, man, whatever it takes
whatever makes her happy.
We’re the Worst
the wrong side of worst
is
I draw lines
between my enemies
and my friends
and
they intersect so much
I can’t see their faces
for the bends
in the book
and what a bath break
took
because you’re all way too much
and lovely
but also
just yuck