PlicityIV: They'll Remember..."They'll remember us always", she said,but they forgot so much of us;only words now, where once was flesh,only rhyme and meter, where once was song.This is the new age:this cold, dry air, this parched land,this dust, and these heavy hands,this death of everything that isn't sure.They've killed so many,didn't think they had killed so many of us.Only words now, where once was mystery.Only stars and stars, where once were gods.So little left not to know.
Contemplicity IV: The RiverSilent by the river,where there is no river;the frozen surface waits --I jump in.
Your ColorsWe have to burn all that now;we have to deny everything.We have to pretend that no one died --even without death I would've forgiven. * * *This is where I will start the new age:I will dress in your colorsand destroy all that was ours.
Here is a manHere is a man who could not cross the ocean.He is not a mystic, though he knows all the tricks:the smoke and the mirrors, the slight movement of the hands that turns wood into cold steel.He isn't love or hate, just petty bitterness and selfish infatuation.He says he loves the mysteries, but he's chained his mystery to dogma.He is plastic jesuses and postcard reproductions.He has healing hands that are too heavy to touch anyone.He wants witnesses, not lovers:little girls to lose forever in his tangled hair.He has prayers for all of you;he will whisper them into your ear if you lean close enough.He will take everything you love.He is the tragic, blind demiurge.He is nicotine patches and decaf coffee.He is the absence of fear.He hasn't spoken for weeks,but you can hear his shallow breathing just a few steps behind you:he's closing in.
InanaYou say, "him and him", and I know you're truly lost.Then there I am, sockless and out of breath,with my heavy hand and my heavy hand.And I know we're one -- all of us, one.You say "blessed" and "these are the ties" and "yes, this is hard" --you bet your life it is.Here's Jesus Christ now, naked and deadly and beautiful as cancer,crying, "Daddy, daddy, please don't let me die."And Tori sings, "Oh, these little earthquakes" -no, not much, not much at all.Listen, listen: this is how angels fall,this is how light spills through cracks in the sky.Oh, Inana. Oh, mother of us all.This magick, this dawn, this light, it burns my eyes:I see lines and lines where the sky used to be."Reach for the sky", you say, "it's only an inch, an inch away."You're close, as close as skin can be,and I'm already gone, already gone.
Ice-creamI take my clothes off,turn the lights off,and eat some ice cream.Call me.
Then theyThen they(very carefully, very quietly)lifted the night from the night;and underneath the night,they found more night.These things make little sense.
even these chainsso this is how we shed our feathersunansweredmoving pieces of sky toward the horizonthere is nothingeven these chains could not save us