Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Saturday, October 22, 2016

At last, just like ambrosia

i’ve leaned in to lennon
danced to tom waits
walked in the moonlight
a skull as my fate
music’s the river
lyrics the lake
but when the dam opens
that fool took the cake
we eat it like ambrosia

shakespeare’s the poet
joyce is the dream
guthrie a vagabond
who riled the team
the leaves are of grass
the androids serene
no one is lifted
in this digital scheme
we eat it like ambrosia

too many to mention
too few to leave out
too many emotions
retreat in a rout
but weaving in wonder
and waving the wand
is america’s mystic
our own blond on blond
we eat him like ambrosia

so turn up your heels
fall down to your knees
sway in the wind
laugh in the breeze
we once had a fella
who sang with a twang
bob dylan, bob dylan
when at last the bell rang
when at last and at last
when at last and again
at last, just like ambrosia


Friday, October 21, 2016


god made the underwear
and god made the tea
god made the slimy slug
he made sean hannity

god made the universe
kind of like a b&b
god made a mess of things
but god made the trees
so god can't be completely awful


Sunday, October 02, 2016

Not the sense of it

rise of the condiments

it will all make sense soon:
the glass containers
plastic bottles
monkey dishes
little packets

all of them agree
that what goes on the cadaver
should have a certain familiarity
something common and recognizable

ketchup, mustard, relish
childhood garnished
ah, but later on...
cumin, taragon, cholula
sprigs of cathedrals
aromatic fatimas
sauce upon sauce

and yet

a squeeze of lemon on a fish's eye
makes the waiter cry, cry, cry
spread the eagle on the plate
dine upon the country's fate
and cry, cry, cry