UPDATE: Sunday, Jan. 27. 8:00 p.m.



I feel a song coming on.

Developing Developed: 080127light.mp3

Light

My hole is warm and full of light.
Yes it is full of light.
There's no brighter spot in all of New York than this hole of mine.

This does not exclude Broadway
Or the view from the Empire State.
These two spots are among the darkest in our so-called civilization culture.

I have one-thousand three-hundred sixty-nine lights.

There's only one radio
I plan to have five
Playing the same song at once to overcome the acoustical deadness

Pour me some sloe gin
Over vanilla ice cream
As Louis bends his military instrument into a beam of lyrical sound.

I have one-thousand three-hundred sixty-nine lights.

So I fight Light and Power with light.

This is how the world moves.
No arrow. No spiral.
Prepare for the boomerang of history. Keep a steel helmet handy.

Immature poets imitate;
Mature poets steal.
I stole that from Eliot. I stole it just to prove him wrong.

Stealing one-thousand three-hundred sixty-nine lights

Truth is light.

Labels: music