This Time Around: Hybrid Prose Poem
Who Drives You to the Page Prompt: the master Cohen
We’re going to be voices now, disembodied voices in the blue sky, pleasant harmonies in the cavities of your distress. And we’re going to stay this way until you straighten up, until your suffering makes you calm… — Leonard Cohen, “Tired”
I’m tired but
instead of Cohen I put on
Trent Reznor
inhale the synthesizer
or whatever god-awful machine
strings its way into
this attitude
this time around — oh so different yeah — well the weeping and wailing and the hunt for some fucking Democracy turned into a magical ailment — we surrendered to a kind of mist a decency of some sort that we’d lost in the alien invasion of 1981 —
I’m awake
beforetime too
strands of yesterday
pushing at the envelope
for the Future
I just can’t imagine
but
but…
someone is getting laid
so you need to cheer
for them
