AFTER THE SÉANCE

Vladimir means “to rule the world.” Vladimir means to give meaning to the world. Consequently, venerable, vehement Vladimirs may continue to appear. Violent, vagabond, vandal Vladimirs. Or virtuoso Vladimirs. Virtuous Vladimirs. Kidnapped, mummified, gift wrapped, bitch-slapped, riffraff Vladimirs. I do not know what will happen. Vladimir may appear in a clean-shaven, psychotic visage. Bald as a cloud of trousers. Dead, he may wish to be dead again.

COLLAPSED LYRICS OF A SÉANCE

FEEBLE HEART BEWARE / THE DEAD ARE LONELY / A FAINT WITCHCRAFT AGAINST DEATH / SELF DESTRUCTION PERFORMED BY STARS / I AM TOO TOUGH TO DIE / WE ARE LONELY / OUR SYMPTOMS INCLUDE METAPHYSICAL HUNGER / THE MOUTH ON YOUR NAVEL IS YOUR OWN / A TWO-DIMENSIONAL WEEPING / A SERIES OF UNACKNOWLEDGED SACRIFICES / A MIRROR IN THE TOWERING DUSK GROANING AND BRUSHING / ONE MUST CONJURE CHANGE / I HAVE CHANGED / FACE A PROVINCIAL ROOM / A WINTER / LET’S SAY YOU’VE GONE BACK IN TIME / PLAGUE PNEUMONIA PARANOIA INTELLECTUAL STARVATION SPIRITUAL EXHAUSTION PRATFALLS MISSTEPS / IT SHOULD BE TWELVE OCLOCK / FIVE SOLDIERS SHOULD PASS THE SPEED OF LIGHT / NEGATIVE AND POSITIVE TRANSGRESSIONS / A MEANS OF DISAPPEARANCE / CANDLES THAT DOUBLE EXPOSURE / THERE IS SUCH A THING AS TOO MUCH SYMBOLISM / DISTRACTION COOING IN A DARK PANELED ROOM / AN UNCOUPLED BREAST WITHOUT WINDOWS / AND THE MECHANICAL SOUL / A CERTAIN NOBILITY IS IMPLICIT / I HAVE TWO HANDS AND THEY ARE NOT AS SIMILAR AS THEY SEEM / THE GLOW SUGGESTS A BURNING A BEAUTIFUL TREMBLING BLOOD / WHAT DO I LOVE AND WHY SHOULD I / WHO DO I KNOW AND WHO WILL CARE TO BE UNNECESSARY / INVITE THE GHOST INTO YOUR BODY / TIRED PEOPLE / A WONDERFUL FUTURISTIC MOOD / BE BORN LIKE IT WAS NOW / BEFORE LIKE IT WAS NOW / EVEN BEFORE THAT / I REMEMBER NOW LIKE IT WAS NOW / THE CHATTER OF SMOKE AND LEAVES / AND NAMESAKE AND MORTALITY AND BRUSHSTROKES / BENEATH A NAME / THE NAME AS THE SUN RISES / EVEN WITH LIFE / MEANING WORLD / I DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN / A CLOUD MAY WISH TO BE DEAD AGAIN

THE ROSE HAS TEETH

after Matmos and M. Zapruder

I was trying to play the twelve-bar blues

with two bars. I was trying to fill the room

with a shocked and awkward color, I was trying

to limber your shuffle, the muscle wired

to muscle. I wanted to be a lucid hammer.

I was trying to play like the first mechanic

asked to repair the first automobile.

Once, Piano, every man-made song could fit

in your mouth. But I was trying to play Burial’s

“Ghost Hardware.” I was trying to play Matmos’s

“Roses and Teeth for Ludwig Wittgenstein.”

I was trying to play the sound of applause

by trying to play the sound of rain.