Friday, October 12, 2012

Roxy Painne and the medicine show - in progress

a mechanical tree in Kansas
dreams of  machine death
first there is rust
and then there is pressure

melting it down
to feed the birds
you thought it was a matter
of right and wrong

everybody is talking backwards
I stand on my head
and recire the declaration of independence
a man is checking my feet for wounds
he says he is a priest
but his breath smells like a pedophile

sick dogs
pick up the broken heads
hide them back into the gloom
we tie them up together
a shared infinity
as real as we can get it
it was a sold job
everyone said so
a solid world

we thought we were building America
we painted ourselves into the classical paintings
there we are in the treet scene, with the smoke
canon balls exploding
we are imigrants, fresh off the train
looking for god in the theaters and saloons