
Triumph of underworlds,
drag me down to depths
with low-lifers, soul-slicers
we sing a dreadful tune
of praise for dreary gods
in a minor key, keyed in to
secrets of specter selves
Triumph of underworlds,
drag me down to depths
with low-lifers, soul-slicers
we sing a dreadful tune
of praise for dreary gods
in a minor key, keyed in to
secrets of specter selves
I am the tramp who wanders American backroads
I am the immigrant who seeks asylum but is denied entry
I am the fool who cries at the drug rehab
I am the fortunate son who squanders wealth
I am the bus driver who drives the Greyhound off the cliff
I am the night-storm that terrorizes the Midwest
I am the space-dust that destroys satellites
Continue reading “Primordial (a poem)”