 |
| a crowd of hubble heads floating round a concrete snake there is the sharp crack of birth and resignation of a blossoming onion there is a slight man up there, spinning as paint is poured out from him, casting color and light everywhere without ever even looking down, before a sea of sweat shop, informer (cial) slaves. this weeble rockstar wobbles but he doesn�t fall down. he packs them in a 1976 chevy station wagon and drives them close enough to see for themselves. he becomes Houdini and raises up to the moon before us all. burning fingers freeze and hold a pink pipe packed tight as I stare up in wonder (icanotletgo,ican-) he�s staring at me again and I don�t know what expression to wear. (there are now nightmares and howling. there is a werewolf loose in the suburbs.) a blonde 4 door family wearing fisherman hats and drinking an amusement park with movie star presence a corndog covered in honey Dijon and raspberry vinaigrette all in the middle of a walled, industrial city. |
| Weeble Rock Star |