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"untitled" issue
december 2002
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russ vidrick
I like the way my car feels at 120 mph.
I feel like Jesus fucking bleeding for a
minute straight. Your screams are easier
heard by someone closer. I can not save
you. Death is such an ugly thing. I will
spare you the details. When the fog rolls
in and the gaze comes I will tell you about
your journey. This is the sound of your life.
If only you kinew what I wanted or I knew
what to say. If only your eyes had not turned
away. HVN is a homesick sparrow living in my
soul, an angel that speaks to me with wings that
crush. You don’t deserve this shit from me. I
will not tell that I have returned. I will not tell
you that I can not love you.
The ghost of a dead man will never allow this.
I will not be part of your collection regardless
of the country or century that we fuck. I like
a woman who knows how to take her pleasure,
but before I fail in love once more I would just
like you to know, that all of this was anticipated.
I am alone in a room a bird has begun to sing on
A hill in Medjagore. I can’t remember if in the
dream we made love. I have been watching
angels fall for too long. It will take exactly
three seconds for this to happen or not to
happen, but all of this is nothing compared
to your hair. I hardly know myself anymore.
I am sorry I left those lips to empty, but my
confusion was shared. It is true that I own
the world, but I would trade all of this just
to see your naked body. Once I quit eating
for a very long time, the thing that I missed
the most was salt. The think that I miss the
most now is you.
I could talk to you about eagles or dolphins
but that would be bullshit. I am a poor man
I have never seen an eagle fly or a dolphin in
the ocean. I will talk to you about something
I know that you have seen like crows or sparrows
Fucking. You’re much too independent to ever need
me, perhaps I can convince you that I need you.
These are some things that interest me. The
apocalypse, bombed-out buildings, cold war
trash in a river or lake, abandonment anything
abandoned, railroad tracks last used in the early
or mid twentieth century. If I were a devil or a
god these would still be some of my favorite things,
and I would still wish to kneel beside you. It is a
new moon and the sewers of this city are thick with
blood, my love for you is in this blood.
Everything used to mean something. Now it means mostly nothing.
All is lost. Faith lost. The stage lost. Everything that falls is mine.
Humanity is a filthy beast burning on an alter in my kitchen. My
children Sodom and Gommorrah. Lot and his daughters fucking
in a cave. This is my movie. This is my house. This is my new
testament. A pattern on a curtain. A troubling dream the scent
of the last century dead at my feet. Every little thing anticipates
the end, Mars dipping in the night sky, the new moon. When
I invited you in I never invited you to this. The beautiful
androgynous bitch and the whores who will cut their wrists
if they don’t get some dick soon. I’m cold from this insanity
it’s bullshit. Poetry, power, chicks, it’s bullshit. I mad the
moon wrote my name on it and cursed the light that it shed.
I hear your noise and the sound is coming back for me. I
have a vision of you and your fucked up crooked teeth.
You do not want to know my vision of you and your
beautiful fucked up crooked teeth. My soul is perplexed
and there never was or ever will be enough medicine. It’s
not as if I have any illusions about people being decent.
I’m a bit of an asshole myself. I don’t complain too much
when someone messes up my check or a pizza, but there
are just some things I won’t do like pick up a car engine
watch belly dancers or listen to a really fucked-up poem.
You are the only one with anything to lose in these plans
I’ve made for you. I can’t help myself when I leave you it’s
as if I am with a thousand strangers. You would be smart
to turn me away and banish my memory.
--
You’re right God is perfect this fuck up is my
fault. But sometimes a girl dances naked and
someone has to be there to see it. It was all her
fault, Eve, I mean, enticing me with candy canes.
I dreamed of her before she was born. I would
close my eyes just to listen for her footsteps. It
was a dream so powerful it crossed into this world.
I had been living in my head so long I could no
longer recognize the truth. But now I know she
is just another numberless angel sent by God to
destroy me. You may be God’s beloved but I am
the one that will be forgiven.
I am not Jesus, but don’t think that I don’t
recognize this crucifixion. If I passed you
some pornography would you still laugh now
that you know all of my secrets? There are some
things one must do alone. I am escaping now
into Byzantine glass windows strange like crystal.
I am a whore I am the holy one. Not the devil just a
devil. In common cotton clothes. Now all that I want
is clean sheets, redemption, and you. I am on trial
now Saint Michael and ten thousand angels. Just
remember I have not asked you for a thing and it’s
ok to say I gave you nothing. You hurt my
soul it is my soul that is hurting now. I used to
love you but an apostle, a saint, and a pope all
whispered in my ear that Cupid is really a blind
angel from Hell. I think you know there is no joy
than giving freely. When the cross is ready one
must hang. I am a stone, and heaven is on Mars,
and I am a stone, I feel like a mother fucking stone.
The ashes are gone now from the fire.
Don’t speak your silence is better than
your truth. Your presence is more powerful
than the moon. How could I ever deny
you? Holy men burn when they whisper
your name. Last night I slept on a stone alter,
your eyes were dead, so I learned to sleep also.
You were a devil, a dog, and a witch when I
opened my eyes the dream was gone. These
dreams they lie about you. Does it just keep
going like this day night, night day. I am
remembering now a life, in your house
you tell me that there is no God. I am
not going to tell you how that feels
or doesn’t feel. Do I remind you of
someone I should I ate stone all of those
years. Perhaps angels bleed also? You
looked so good amongst the art. Your
mere display is most pleasing. I still have
a locket and a piece of your hair. Did you
send the crow and the music to cheer me?
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