Jim Trainer


In Uncategorized on August 1, 2012 at 9:39 am

With a trusty lexicon, a grab-bag of tropes& grandiloquence, there is something to erect&something to hide behind. Reaching in&pulling nothing out. With the neurotic, crow-like pecking of scab&shadow. And those familiar, heroic themes…

we blow the
high trumpet of our
on our wronged Nights
we slum away the high noons,
hiding from the parade
with a cold one.

In a city full of forever fools, our passion plays running into and from each other’s arms. We have an armistice of vanities while secretly coveting to the sugary-brown core of resentment. Perfect days waving inside snow globes and deep lost nights floating in the punchbowl against bodies&broken phones. We try. We rally&roil against it but find our only rationale is the cooing lie we whisper to the dumbing heart, laying there on some nothing night.
Nothing will change. Nothing will ever change. The summer nights will fire on, desire will move into the spotlight of our minds, our tired bones will marionette into the mouth of a soft wet grave.

there was a light at the window
a light under the door,
but it’s not there anymore.
-FUGAZI, Strangelight

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