Figuring my finger was gone or gonna be & I screamed. Is there time to fear sound, hanged or guillotine & is the proposed morality really the quietness allowed the executioners? Proposed morality, anyway – what the hell leg do you stand on? Lay off the left one for a week after a hard rock & my place came together. A rock is a hard enough place itself you freaks & don’t forget that; doesn’t matter what’s on the other side. Walk around with a broken leg & a hundred dollar bill. Cherry the soft love you swill – fuck I’m gonna cry & it’s my own responsibility. Worst injury 2018 has been fear. Fear of other & of self. Mainly of the relationship between, which, yes, is all as all political & road to road, Mr. Frost. And one for the Doctor… Almost losing limb in tender fight with old Hawthorne whispering in his ear & mine, hung over barely balanced hanging over doesn’t really count because I laughed as I walked away & his prick was as good a tooth pick as I lomped mainly debris like taking your dog to bathe like lily like a river queen, eat your heart out mary. Uninjured. Bad & Worse were the stumps, older, easily, than any living person – trucked off so my neighbor could expand their pool house, or further down taken by crane & chipped midday does no one care? Does the city really want to cut down trees to make way for solar panels? Heart more tender as body becomes more tentative. Aged twice this year maybe as injury counts. Whether by excess or tension or excess in tension. Finally, at 28, occasionally uncarded, now by face no longer smiling at the cashier in Marshfield, MA who could see it in my hands. See it in eyes & songs about God. Walk around drunk or stay in bed, you could. Running low on patience & peace. Harmony Texas is an inspiration in her own right & sure pride was injured but how can you argue with “I’m just not that into you” & it’s variations? That’s just how I feel. My right knee because we split wood the vertical way – old & beautiful & rot out base of a crab apple fell with sister the kind of tree Peter & Jane could’ve gone up the hill to see, no pail of water, but the occasional crushed fruit or stick to knaw. & that one piece of Horse Chestnut said fuck you & came right out to prove it on bone. This morning the sun came up & I was still awake & alive & the ’79 Mercury, beautiful cracked red leather has been pulled out of my driveway leaving six or 8 drips, oil – though they said it leaked gas – black, & my Cotton pulled on her hat & coughed & said “I’m not going to prod you for answers” & I said “you haven’t asked” or maybe we just looked at each other.
James plays in a great band called American Whip Appeal, and has a great track record of playing in quality bands over the years of one kind or another. LISTEN HERE and below. – DS
