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Tag: los angeles

  • cars slipping down the’s

    Cars slipping down ‘The’s’
    Cascading river of fuming light
    They don’t know what they’ve made for us 
    Up here or up above
    I don’t think they even give a shit  

    I know I wouldn’t  

    Bjork had a video once,
    Something about us
    Us
    Super computer humans with
    Microchip warehouses 
    And Datahouse condos
    Prius coffins also all
    Overheating
    Pulses
    Avid clicks
    On fire
    We always look it, don’t we  

    The Sun
    That’s blood orange of Northern Italy 
    Milan on the horizon
    Where’d you get that from It looks very nice on you, doesn’t it

    The speckled congregations of halogen and pathogen
    You should see how Berlin divides from Space
    You mass
    Metastasizing
    Turnpike veins
    Lumpectomies for Costco’s
    Strip-malls the historic brownstone
    You’re post-modern babe
    Googie temples
    Drive-thru Mecca
    You wouldn’t want Paris 
    But its recipes, Republique,
    Or AirBNBs
    Its grams and IG’s and the cobblestone 
    No maybe not that
    Digging for the finest ideas, though, you
    City harvesters
    Acting as gatherers
    Sometimes the gesture does us in enough. 

    An idea of you as home as always frightened me
    ‘I’d rather be buried elsewhere’.  

    But yes I suppose there’s something more
    Now I see you
    Something you’re brought on me
    You tumor of grids 
    Masses of galaxies 
    Trons of Jons and Vons and Lawns 
    People yearn for the maps of our stars
    They always fall but 
    Never across the sky
    For all the gravities you push into your orbit
    Bunch up
    And pull up
    Into the hills
    Constellations overlooking Milky Ways 
    You’re just all of me
    And all of us 
    Us dreamers
    Weilding tongues of snakes and shamans 
    Saturn Sirens
    Vegans of Neptune
    Peasants of Pluto we meme-share without desire for contact
    Elitist loner-dom
    Echoed shadows my denizens 
    I’m home and I’m landing
    How God I wish I could see you at night when I look up at the sky the way I look at you on the ground
    Landing now, I’ll need a smoke
    Maybe then I’ll say I’m home
    Here it comes, the tires down
    Our Landing gear in set
    Concrete burn and skid
    $60 Uber
    And standing idly on the escalator no matter which side you wish to lean
    I taste the dry
    Air cakes the face like a mask
    Smog-filtered movie-glasses
    Rose
    Into Rosé and violet and Aperol Spritz
    Heavenly graffiti.  

    Being here’s like always waiting on the gates.  

    Fuck being buried, 
    I don’t know if we’re ever getting in.