No Eiffel in sweet!
no
sipping of tangerine blood!
no harmonious taste of champagne from the flute!
the last endorphin has been
burned
up in a haze and now there is nothing
of Euphony left to feel
this is a gimcrack of the spirit
neurons
dashed against the rocks
happiness is left to bleed out
plumb-dry
and the world is made of cold fingers.
and
nothing else.
The Invention of
Noise
A caveman builds a shirt
a caveman builds a weevil
a caveman builds a whirly dervish
a caveman builds a wheel
a caveman builds a house
a caveman builds a Tracheotomy
a caveman builds a split atom
a caveman builds an acid rain
and path and cousin and masking tape
and a noise machine
for your open ears
the caveman builds an event.
The Great Noise is coming.
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