Sep 30, 2008


the whine quavers as it ascends--
not white, but pure as it is without what usually passes
for the true blue abuse of signal--
the parlance of price and you already know this shit, man
so crash without losing your mind--
and it's louder than the voice that asks if you want another
coffee valium child grave memory--
but you're not paid to think and you're not paid to feel
or to know or to care or to trust--
you're a slave of predestination and circumstance
same as rope, as needle, as petal--
same as math.