The World is a Song

I sense the world might be more dreamlike, metaphorical, and poetic than we currently believe—but just as irrational as sympathetic magic when looked at in a typically scientific way. I wouldn’t be surprised if poetry—poetry in the broadest sense, in the sense of a world filled with metaphor, rhyme, and recurring patterns, shapes, and designs—is how the world works. The world isn’t logical, it’s a song.

– David Byrne, Bicycle Diaries. 

Walmart Prayer

Sunlight scattered by a ceiling of clouds, then again by the curved slant of pickup truck windows into a diffuse winter light that, even in April, recommends the selection of a heavier coat, but then again it may be an illusion produced by the the narrow scene within sliding door …

A Toast

Well raise another round boys and have another glass
be thankful for today knowing it will never last
still let’s leave the world laughing when our eulogies are read
may we all get to heaven before the devil knows we’re dead.

– Turnpike Troubadours, “Before the Devil Knows We’re Dead”

Burning

Y’all: if I have to watch the world burn, I want to watch it burn from New Orleans.

RE: Your Bumper Stickers

Yes, I was smiling as I walked by, because I was looking at all those bumper stickers on your truck, and, for a second, I felt like I knew you–or at least who you wanted to be known as, though honestly even that manicured intention seemed stretched here, glossed over …

Something About Life

You are awake. It is still dark. You’re in bed. In…Golden Meadow…no…Poplar Bluff? Um…Mexico City? Alkmaar? Hah, no, it’s New Orleans and then you notice that your head is pounding and that a sleeping cat has completely cut off the circulation in your outstretched left arm. Good morning.