Scolding Water

sing tunes of the apocalpyse
as if it's going on
meteorites flying left and right
in random arrhythm for this song
let's dance around and swing our hips
to the howling symphony
while sandstorms strip our flesh from bone
in the dancehall of Humanity



dream of love and rockets
only in two ways
one in poverty, life
the everyday
white dust on dirt and gravel, scrub
swimming in low drama, blood
— the other a simple knife
A/C in black cool studio
primary lights at night
music clean and crystal clear
soothing to weary ears



a drive up to the Bugaboos
my dad and I were on a cruise
just drivin round a mountain pass
and there before us on its ass
a semi trailer big and long
a feller crawlin, the wheels still goin
I pulled on over and I said, "Hey,
"Can a Canuck's grandthing help ya, eh?"



these tautologies like crimson wine
dowsing for fountains or brief bloody showers
as landmark and generic sky align
landscape changes to postcard time
no simulation, nothing to find divine
gaze at the sunset, now that's sublime



wails are low and long today
harmony is brief
erratic and ephemeral
watch the ballerinas on their feet
toes like goat hooves en pointe, precise
dream fountaining geysers of steaming blood
—if they had skates the throats they'd slice
to dance away the day is nice