Showing posts with label quinn lee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quinn lee. Show all posts

14 July 2011

the augury of a bright light fist fight


we should talk about this when you're sober
     and in the same room
if you want to

but i refuse to let it make me emotional

i mean what’s the use in useful
when there’s no truth   in truthful 
and there’s less of each on the near side   of youthful

it’s all the mythology of how you’re supposed to be
holiday    hanging things
    christians from christmas trees
strange fruit
sweet tooth 
     polite  but uncouth

leaving the worries underneath the night
digging up the dark    in the park by moonlight
look at these blue eyes    look at them sobright

sober

    a sign

painting a white line
          on a dirt road
for the chance to see no clothes
hopped up on bennies and cotton mouthed no-doz
but stone stuck listening  to those motherfuckin staylows

oh no
        no  n’no

the hammock by the creek
dirty feet underneath
        but ready to run
at the first sight of fun

the augury of a bright light fist fight
      
the happening of past   not plight
   the undiscovered king
his loosened time piece
     lost in the waiting
         and bag full of wind blown
dirty dream  suffering
the whole deck shuffling

hanging hard    then swinging free
    quick just like qt lee

innocent remark on the trail of her heart 
          lost to india  but still at full sail
    and sure science     that whole hearted compliance
means that wartime enactors     distressing distractors
      remain casually cold    suppliant

current events  that still don’t make sense
mire in coincidence
      my head    has a dent
and that is all that i meant  

there comes a time in every one's life when the goal is to be left alone

that time is over for me
 that time is over      now 

count up to thirty three and let it spin
by the minute  you can write down the names
     remember who was left in it
discovering subtleties still in the room
after ends and the winds finally
            blew through

where the red thread and ink take up the fight
and time stuck in air only happens    at night
when there’s nothing to do and no worry of whom
might be sending or saving    or coming unglued

in the air                     in the sunlight

      that truth   was unbearable
heart slow
   a wind blows
the first snow is  terrible

but why oh why
        is decay so beautiful?


 it has lived a life





 *photo by patrick riedy


14 June 2011

the quickening of Q T Lee


 la la la     lee le lee     i’ll be disappointed
         see      inevitable

meinyou   youinme
everyone  every thing


    yeah    this too 
impervious 
   still seeking truth   searching roots    follow through
                  fiddle tunes  the pipes the pipes of old cancun
           furrowed gains neck to pain 
 head to head   median migraine

white girl problems    floating free     the quickening of  Q T Lee


hard words to hear two days post   
                    different alone  than the ones i had known 
        close the door so close to home  
                   the hidden hills are gone girl gone 
                                                              gone

do you still turn those leaves    easy as it is to breathe  gertie cage   
     the threatening deafening  unsettling    
                       time it takes to leave  myth or mark on anything

she wore flip flops to the club  

keep doing what you’re doing see   cause this here  this   this is maddening   we suffering     chanty cheat   surrey sweet  surreptitious on a serif sea   
       shoes with laces is the way to be 

the way to blue    the way to me

the years wear well on those that make it do   that make the truth   hide the proof   start it out as something new   only to end   
              as shiny shoes   badnewsandblues    
                                   happy birthdays    too  
it’s your move    

the door was already open because the words   were already spoken
like a token  to the
economy
those white girl problems the hanging heat
                 killing time   killing me

       resurrection is as much about when as it is about how
it’s already been decided you can’t un-decide it now

as the once dry eyes find two eighty five  
          an apology from the past says
‘it’s alright’     




by Michael Borremans