(Poetic) Protest Song

Today is another day where I will struggle to 

Exist in static

The worn grooves on a record

Shouting their voices

Free myself from a simple dread that

Only a single sound escapes the broken sound machine

What if this is the only trick I have left?

Left to my own

Devices/song continues

Droning endless/sing

Me another one/now

My life, a reduction in force, less

Notes looking prettier than before

Tempted by the truth, no more

You can’t tell me I’m not trying here. I promise

The notes in an avalanche again

Given as a gift to right now

Left out for another day

Find it when they find it

Absence and Presence

Both are the same

In static

Buzzing

Squalls

I’m going to continue through it all/Going to know the noise/Going to keep exploring some edge of something and hope it takes shape/eventually

Reunion

HOUSE KEEPING: [Cross post] here is a recent essay I wrote comparing how Revival Season (a rap duo) and Yard Act (an indie/post-punk band) employed the elements of dance music. I hope you enjoy it. It's been weird not posting everyday and it has been hard to find a rhythm for concepts without Napowrimo prompts. 

spent and waiting for land
while lurching through tempest after

tempest more of a like kind dripping
Into each moment i am well i am

well i have never felt more in control of

my extremities never felt it coming
when my own umbilical cord leapt out from
the spent body parts trays of yesterday   wrapped
me up in a familial embrace this was a north
star this was mother’s milk this was everything
a warm handshake of the soul is meant to signify

reaching for my neck bring me in closer   slither into place
tighten the hold   cut off the air let me brain see the fireworks
i’ve been waiting for to erupt from my correspondence a view of

perfection each of us made clean

Way/Weigh Station

Back to the weekly posts after a rather fruitful Napowrimo. 

I’m already here. Shepherded by bus
in the infancy of night, before the changing
of the guards. Sky and moon, solitary
jailors, an unblinking vigil. You and me
and each of the sky’s flashlights. Searching,
what have they found? Their patience, unblinking,
impassive. Something that screeches into
the colder portion of night, without sound,
in the desperation of a wounded animal, one
who knows that its tormenter has caught
the scent, has circled back, sharp object
in hand, a dream of satisfaction playing
on the mind’s projector reel. silence, take me,
take us all. i can hear the braying of the beast
i can feel the cold dew on my bare feet, creeping
forward through a cold, satisfying chill soon a gnashing
soon a moment reaches it terminus soon an
ending soon another ending and another ending
soon the daylight

soon