On Turning Thirty

grooveamatic

Of course everyone knows there is something ridiculous about the way time moves,
slithering into and out of crevasses, ravines, serpentine granite chapels
like a freezing-cold underground liquidway,
usually unseen,
usually only the merest mention of it on the barest surface of these real things we do,
flowing through sand checkout lines and sky traffic jams
like the most unpredictable ubiquitous damned thing
you ever did see;

It is when turning back,
craning your head to see
the vast vermillion horizon of your own
crusty underpants
learner’s permits
snot smeared on windowpanes
itchy petting zoos
women left in the rain
tears shed in amusement parks
vomit on the lady’s pants
that certain incense in that certain basement
pennies crushed by trains
soaking wet suede sneakers
pot smoked from soda cans
dad catching you peeing in the yard
naked in the car
alone on campus
malls with grandma
the nipple like a bullet in your mouth
and the loudest music you ever heard
that this queerest thing about time is more evident than words;
when you see yourself inside of it,
it seems so long,
but when you try to look back on it,
it’s like there was never any time at all,
that all instants happened at once.

And tonight,
the eve of my thirtieth birthday,
my own past seems
fully removed from what I am,
as though all my moments ceased to have happened
and all I am left with sits here
typing by computer light,
not wondering where you are
but how I could have been silly enough
to have ever thought you existed
at all.

Somewhere I am eight,
and somewhere I am wrestling,
and somewhere my mother cradles my tiny head
and somewhere my leg is broken
and somewhere I am drunker than hell
and somewhere I am one-hundred and ten pounds
and somewhere I am dancing dancing dancing
and somewhere I am in those mountains watching those two rattlesnakes have sex
and you were there too
and somewhere we stand around a swimming pool full of glow sticks
and somewhere a goose is chasing me
and somewhere a man in a chariot just yelled at me to slow down
and somewhere I am on a couch stricken unable to move
and somewhere my father and I are driving around town wearing Halloween masks
and it is funny funny funny
and somewhere I am thirty and somehow remembering the loudest music I ever heard
but that place is not here, not now.

deadnote

i used to be afraid
of the cia
i used to be afraid
of the kkk
i used to feel like
they might be one
and then there are times
when i think im the son
and everyone is in me
me in everyone

now that i feel
the storm has passed
second guessing
all the times
that i look back
into my heart
the knife pierces
a brain

but i dont feel anything
for im not scared
about what ive done
and his spirit
never eloped
from your love
now you can change
days and nights into hell
but that spell on me
is going straight to dwell
where all you can feel
is a buffett of twitches
all pulsing from these fingetstrips
spading into ditches
iwill find a friend
in the arms of my fear
and ill be shoving sticks
into one of your ears

and this is real
this is real said

it seems i was born
and it seems that i will die
but im not so sure
honey {kenny rogers style}
if i want you
by my side

deadnote

hilarious the honey reference

ship em on down to the chamber