Quick Twisted Remix
gentle Uncle Billy
brought
his p a s s i on secretly
—John Wieners (from “MRS. WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON WAS TO ILL TO GO...”)
3 daze ’til the
election, can’t
focus. manage
to watch 2 epi
sodes of Shrin
king at the top
of the day. Watch
video for bbno$
& Yung Gravy’s
“You Need Jesus”
3x (now 4). At
the end of that,
guess who calls
me. I’m crying,
(tears in his eyes!).
Stress levels at
extreme, only
lower due to
sitting on my
desk (bed) all day.
Another long stretch of time
I manage to endure
without thinking,
feeling over the
hump watching
Madame VP x 2
on SNL tonight,
holding out my
hands (and hope)
for an
easy stretch
through the extra
hour of fall
behind, w/
the right
stuff to do:
write this one
to you, enjoy
2 more season
finales (Only Murders,
Agatha), go dan
cing and just
maybe relearn
how to pray.
over two decades in the making. a timeshifting autobiographical poetry collage w/photography. a diaristic, nearly "daily writing" (ad)venture. new pieces are posted most days.. **new and in progress** -- recordings of each poem are being added. these are read by the author & posted to each poem's page. --Del Ray Cross (contact delraycross at gmail)
Saturday, November 02, 2024
Friday, November 01, 2024
mmmmmix
“American Meanie, What a Weenie,” Keens Citizen Dream E.
He grips my
soul like a stale
behind.
—Robert Glück
Tragic to think that
“I’ve seen a lot of
history” would’ve
meant “Oh, the
progress was slow,
but I’ve been around
long enough to have
seen a lot of it.” Until
now, when I sit around
bemoaning everything
in no order because
chaos counts more.
“The poor kids,” is
the thought that
lingers more than
any other, way
more than the
apocalypse,
which, how
ironic that
doomsday
He grips my
soul like a stale
behind.
—Robert Glück
Tragic to think that
“I’ve seen a lot of
history” would’ve
meant “Oh, the
progress was slow,
but I’ve been around
long enough to have
seen a lot of it.” Until
now, when I sit around
bemoaning everything
in no order because
chaos counts more.
“The poor kids,” is
the thought that
lingers more than
any other, way
more than the
apocalypse,
which, how
ironic that
doomsday
has become
nostalgic
to hark back
upon. In any
nostalgic
to hark back
upon. In any
other era it is
what glows from
the silver screen
of the mind’s
eye more
than any
other.
Can’t tout the
luxury of having
a mind that isn’t
booby-trapped
by omnipresent
anxiety because,
and, imagine the
goofy end of days
calamithy that guided
our worst nightmares
back then when
cynicism was
just about as
tawdry as
porn or post
modernism.
what glows from
the silver screen
of the mind’s
eye more
than any
other.
Can’t tout the
luxury of having
a mind that isn’t
booby-trapped
by omnipresent
anxiety because,
and, imagine the
goofy end of days
calamithy that guided
our worst nightmares
back then when
cynicism was
just about as
tawdry as
porn or post
modernism.
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