After Margie Stern Plays Kung Fu Necktie on Tuesday

It is Tuesday 2009
and the guy wasn't impressed
after the show but
we don't listen to this guy,
just offer money for tobacco
but he gives us it instead
and so we respect him
and listen to his complaints.

The future is yourself;
fill this part in.

To be schizoid and frenetic.
To be the ghost falling out.

Sometimes going to these such shows
allows for such keen focus. I saw a tour van
from California, it was black, sitting
a few cars down and I thought that
maybe they, those musician--types,
are smoking inside of it--
but I walked on by in 21st century bob,
and thought about how bands form.

Thanks.
Jackals.
Appollinaire.
Roman aquaducts and roads.

Made off into the night
thinking about how similar this neighborhood
can look under the same company's light bulbs
making everything orange and I thought
of Hemingway once, the Poetics of Space once,
Nabokov a couple of times--
Olneyville over in Providence on the way along
drunk driving back to the house.

My girls can dance along riverbanks.

Hey Josef's going to Japan to find himself
and the meaning of life but I'm worried he'll
lose it, himself, in Tokyo, where the streets
have no names, quite literally, and I give
him advice on the phone (as it dies)--get
the card from your hotel and bring it with you.
A taxi can always bring you back home.

It's true, isn't it? The situation, sometimes.

The problem as I see it, can be found
throughout the explosions. That is,
the land of the rising sun is self-explained.

Dreaming of catalysts and catalepsy.

Thinking of Marnie Stern's bassist
forming a syncopation of candy chords
and with the frizzy guitar Marnie taps along.

Cannot tell follower from leader.
One giant bang under circus tent.

Preposition phrases screaming like
the songs of the witch, the Valkyrie,
the screaming of a billion winds in a cave
down hundreds of feet of the angled shade.

Should've applied for that job.
Trained on that instrument.
Learned that language.

Now bigger fish circle around. Circles.
Thinking of communism and how
to think about oppression regularly.

Women will always be oppressed in this system,
says Steve,
and I agree, but this time for real.

Number munchers, land lords on computers,
dental records and chipped teeth
or rotten teeth or broken teeth or cracked.

The jaw work is a lotion
to the problem; there is no solution.

These trees won't grow themselves.
Get a bigger pot for a bigger plant.

Finished Jack Spicer, time for White and
Savage Detectives breaking open caverns
of ice and the death of an image.
Savage they move about like apes.

Frank Bidart pouring out of a spigot.
Frank Bidart forming from stone.
Frank Bidart as the waves of a storm.
Frank Bidart read before Marnie Stern.
Frank Bidart shivering in the wind,
his poems frozen tears cranking into--

Esquire 04/09's chimp story almost
brought me to tears. I think about
Rachel over in Rhode Island doing
vegan food and smiling a lot.

Then there's the other Rachel over there
smiling a lot and laughing in that semi-deep voice
and both Rachels are so passive.

The tapping of a guitar. The pat of a
panda's stomach. Marnie Stern's stomach--
how do stomachs look inside the body?
Doing everything that Deerhoof
was too weird to do; never saw Lightning Bolt
perform; this job wants 35 words per minutes;
my ass scratch to itch it means death.

The black purse hangs from the shoulder
and some random girl once holding a banana
wears a black cap that affords her little.
I am sure she can speak in French if forced.

Though chiseled into practicality, the
French singers too swim this ocean today,
and Animal Collective was playing
and NPR the sinful was on but difficult,
and tonight Marnie's a potion, and I didn't
mention her drummer once but meant to
the whole time, like a back brace.

Maybe i was afraid, or wished he continued
to pound with the same smile Marnie wears.