the angelis

the angelis
the burst of light
the bells ring
the multiplication of lives
words arranged by sound
their meanings
nudging genetic origins
kerouac said life
is pain & drank too much
I am reduced to begging
and even that is ignored
there is nothing to do
but taste this sorrow
it isn't your fault
although it is

the world acts like a disease
friends sing me stories
of innocence and experience
everyone secretly creates fame
my guts are torn open
in expiation I fear my sins
but have trouble defining them
sometimes death seems comforting
usually it is an evil angel


So the high point of this meditation is the line about having trouble defining my sins. Later in my life this is less and less of a problem. That is because I spend less intellectual currency pretending an understanding that supports my ego's small goals. This piece also has aspects of my difficult relationship with the entire Scarritt scene that I promoted and kept going for a number of years for no particularly good reason except that I needed to feel important and have some sort of audience for my own work. This piece also references Blake and Kerouac, proving that I have had some sort of actual relationship to actual literature. And again Alison Gaughan is seen as some sort of dark angel who has left me behind in purgatory to pay for these very sins.