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1. |
The Last Picture Show
05:18
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Transfiguration calls me
but nothing negates
the force of being.
Symbolization falters
with every move
and effort that I make.
Still I don’t know why,
but it is felt —
these moments in time.
I cannot hold
but I am held
like omens in the night.
And maybe every fluke
is given truth
at the last picture show.
Like a pantomime,
I sign hope from love
in the time of fear.
Carve my name on a tree
to remind me
that I disappear.
Still I don’t know why
but it is felt —
these moments in time.
I cannot hold
but I am held
like omens in the night.
But maybe every fluke
is given truth
at the last picture show.
Or maybe every truth
becomes a fluke
at the last picture show.
Oh, it wakes you up.
Oh, it keeps you up.
Oh, it wakes me up.
Oh, it keeps me up.
I’m a fluke, I’m a fluke
Give me truth…
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2. |
Supine Soundtrack
04:35
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Slow streams we watch
under the light of love we’ve lost.
Every rush is sucked from the waiting;
want lucky breaks,
told, “Make hay.”
Oh, sinners love the raining
while angels run from pain.
It feels like it’s over,
it reels you back.
Crimson clover, stand still!
We wait, but it’s a supine soundtrack.
Fogged glass by the lamp
I weep over. Keep wishing for your
moon to glance on my hands.
Take half as the body,
you get what you see.
Mr. Bailey whispers “Yes, maybe
you’re not here at all.”
It feels like it’s over,
it reels you back.
Crimson clover, stand still!
We wait, but it’s a supine soundtrack.
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Like a house you near,
it comes with familiar sound.
It moves with the light
of you not there.
True accounts are nowhere;
it runs a linear fount.
It stares at the time
of you not there.
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, wonder
This life’s wonders!
This life’s wonder!
But then, when it arrives,
we try and speak back
every line of supine
until we lay a soundtrack.
But every time we surmised,
the moths moved the outlines.
Unaware and brain-fried,
we call and sing it back…
When it feels like it’s over,
it reels you back.
Crimson clover, stand still!
We make love inside the soundtrack.
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3. |
Aliveness
04:34
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I was a spirit
long done with living.
I embraced nothing
like the lens is a glass.
Had ebony and ivory,
but they stole all my keys;
elephant trading, they said,
I waged on the vastness of me.
I’m a revolving door,
I’m a cogged-up carnivore
for the neon horse
in a bright light corridor.
You brought me to a drive-in
where there formed a picture
of me as a bride
and I was just a likeness.
You said "No, that’s aliveness.
It’s a fantastic distance:
harmony and glass,
your feet on the grass!"
I can’t revolve doors.
I’m a cogged-up carnivore,
I’m a neon horse
In a bright light corridor.
You say, "Love is not either-or:
it’s not a myth,
it is a mist,
endless and free-form.
Well, I read your script.
Is that what this is?
‘We get blown to smithereens.’
That’s what you mean.
The framing that caused it
demands a look beyond it.
Will the carnivores step back?
Will their preference go slack?
Now I revolve doors.
I’m a cogged-up carnivore,
I’m a neon horse,
I’m a bright light corridor.
You say, "Love is not either-or:
it’s not a myth,
it is a mist,
endless and free-form.
I belong here, I’m home.
With you, I am home.
If nothing else will grow
but violets and stones,
all my nothing is yours.
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4. |
Last Evenings on Earth
03:55
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Last evenings on Earth:
we said
regret wouldn't reach
our bed.
Lace and sequins,
too plain
a soul
for secrets.
What I’ve said won’t go,
what I’ve said won’t die.
What I've come to know,
it replays in light.
Last evenings on Earth:
two threads
duet a pearl
bright red.
My last evenings divert
every effort I’ve made to not let go.
What I’ve said won’t go,
what I’ve said won’t die.
What I've come to know,
it replays in light.
What I’ve said won’t go!
What I’ve said won’t die!
What I've come to know,
it replays in light!
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Joey Pollari Los Angeles, California
Joey Pollari is an artist working in music.
From Minneapolis, Minnesota
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