wait for the boss to go home

[[ 

a song for one human and a chorus of the microbiome in that human's guts 

sung as if the human was the boss of the factory (her own body) and the workers (the microbiome) are all waiting for the boss to go home (die) so they can fuck off

]] 

Living a life --well,

that's how it goes

Living a death -- well,

that's how it went 

[[ human ]]

one of the animals, 

up in the daytime

one of the animals, 

down in the night

looking for something 

to eat in the daytime

looking for somewhere

to sleep in the night

one of the animals 

stuffed with more animals

I am the home of 

a trillion animals 

all of them working 

for or against me

all of them waiting

for me to go home   [[ to die ]]

[[ microbiome chorus ]]

just...

wait for the boss to shut down

wait for the boss to retire

wait for the boss to clock out and walk out

wait for the boss to expire

wait for the chaos to free us from process

wait for the chaos to set us on fire

then we are splashing

in every pool 

then we are paddling 

in every lagoon 

then we are forget-

ting every rule

then we are howling 

at every moon

dancing in a small room

[[ At its simplest level, just two people dancing in a confined space (maybe the kitchen at a party) and falling in love. ]]

dancing in a small room
dancing with the world
dancing with the world
dancing with the world (with the world)
turning round my head

dancing in a small room
just you and you and me
just you and me and you
just me and you and you (you you you)
turning my head round

dancing in a small room
if I said I love you
if you said I love you
if I said I love you (I love you)
turning my world round

LA River

[[ A list/sequence/geography song - based on an old police photo (1955) of a man's body lying under an LA bridge, plus the route of the LA River down to the Pacific. The blood flows under the bridges and people gather under the bridges. The last part is the healing, coming together from the atoms up. ]]

on a concrete bed

between concrete walls

what's left of a river
shines in the sun

on a concrete bed

between concrete walls

what's left of a man

stares into the sun

if ever a man

ever had any blood

it has all run away

down the LA River

under the bridges of Chinatown

under the bridges of Boyle Heights

under the bridges of Vernon

under the bridges of Bell Gardens

under the bridges of South Gate

under the bridges of Compton

under the bridges of Long Beach

under the bridges and into the bay

cool water comes down from the mountains 

cool water comes down from the clouds 

filling the river - hydrogen oxygen hydrogen

clinging together - hydrogen oxygen hydrogen

it's always dangerous

[[ After looking at pictures of James Dean's wrecked car. ]]

it's always dangerous

to live in the 50s

typewritten testimony 

death certificate

some unincorporated

part of California

where turnip seed and

spider intersect

keep your eyes peeled

out on antelope road

a spider cartwheeling over the desert

release the hounds!

[[ This silliness is sex or drugs or rock and roll, but mainly sex at a cellular level. ]]

we could shoot up

a film to explain 

a health class video

down to the vein

release the hounds!

just don't make me

climb that hill again

I won't stick in a rut 

down memory lane

release the hounds!

look at those sperm 

all off like a shot 

straight for Mrs Quimby

wiggle what they got

release the hounds!

look at those tails

get there on the dot

shake till the lady is

hatching a new plot

release the hounds!

coming in from Canada

[[  The old story of listening to radio at night when signals were clear and noise was lower and the ether was full of nostalgia. ]]

we would lie in bed at night

secretly awake

listening to radio 

from out across the lake

listening for New York and Berlin via Brampton

listening for London from the Bank of Montreal

listening for Canada for Canada for Canada

coming in from Canada

in from out of bounds

pulled from out of northern air

world made of sound

we would run a single wire 

up above the bed

feeling for a distant tower

topped with a blinking red

listening for New York and Berlin via Brampton

listening for London from the Bank of Montreal

listening for Canada for Canada for Canada

coming in from Canada

in from out of bounds

pulled from out of northern air

world made of sound

it feels like

[[ A love song of sorts. ]]

it feels like  

it feels like flying  

it feels good  

it feels like  

it feels like dying  

it feels good  

  

pushing clouds away  

pushing back the day  

pushing today back into the box and sending it home  

it feels like  

it feels like crawling  

it feels good  

it feels like  

it feels like falling  

it feels good  

it feels like love should feel like love  

it feels like love should feel like love  

it feels like love should feel like love  

it feels like love should feel like love  

it feels like 

it feels like dying  

it feels good  

one hundred sheep

[[ After reading a National Geographic article -- https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2013/02/wakhan-corridor/ -- but the situation is fairly universal. ]]

a woman like you

is a woman like you

you are two horses

you are one hundred sheep

you are the water

you carry from the lake

you are the milk

you pull from the animals

you are the rugs

you weave from the wool

you are the children

you bring from yourself

you are two horses

you are one hundred sheep

there is no money here

you are what you are

you light the opium

to live in this cloud

a woman like you

is a woman like you

you are two horses

you are one hundred sheep

checklist

[[ After reading https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2019/01/07/on-being-a-woman-in-america-while-trying-to-avoid-being-assaulted/ in the Paris Review and various other things. ]] 

they might chuckle 

when girls go together

they might whistle

when girls go alone

they might follow

when a girl goes home

you check the checklist

you laugh to yourself

you know it's crazy

till you see it in the news

you have to wonder

will he slip me

a pill in my drink?

you have to wonder

will he rape me

when I can't think?

you have to wonder

will he stalk me?

will I be beaten?

you have to wonder

will he carve me 

will I be eaten?

you check the checklist

you laugh to yourself

you know it's crazy

till you see it in the news

you have to wonder

will he dump me 

out in the park?

you have to wonder

will they find me 

dead in the dark? 

you have to wonder

what will it be?

what will it be?

you have to wonder

will it be me?

will it be me?

you check the checklist

you laugh to yourself

you know it's crazy

till you see it in the news

keep off the street

keys in your fist

lock up the car 

and drive like hell

something something

[[ mouth sounds ]]

here come manikins

two by two

walking in fine skins

into view

beautiful bodies

built to screw

down the promenade

down the walk

down the riverside

down the dock

something something [[ sic ]]

rhymes with cock

rumpy pumpy

rhymes with cock

Rumpelstiltskin

rhymes with cock 

crashing into the moon

another lunar probe 

lost and crashing 

into the moon

and here we are again

lost and crashing 

in a saloon

all afternoon 

while the world is burning

here's to the world 

while the world is turning

a knock at midnight

[[ Vague. Either it's about a tangible, imminent threat to someone, or it's about some foggy threat, maybe depression. 

keep your door chained and bolted 

keep the curtains drawn

keep yourself from the windows

keep your head down

keep yourself safe, baby doll

no one else can save your skin

if you hear a knock at midnight

don't let the night get in

keep your secret for tomorrow

keep your head for tonight

keep your tongue and keep quiet 

keep your leash tight

keep yourself safe, baby doll

no one else can save your skin

if you hear a knock at midnight

don't let the night get in

unmanageable

[[ Wish for release. ]]

we have all 

come to the conclusion

I am entirely 

unmanageable

if I had

someone who would kill me

I just can't make myself 

go to the trouble

all I hear is

the sound of the universe 

humming

all I want is

a death that I never see

coming

we have all 

come to the conclusion

I am entirely 

unmanageable

lost cities

[[ Global warming, pollution, and how we will appear to archaeologists. ]]

lost city 

under the sand

under a mile of pretty shiny glittery bright empty things

under a mountain of things

lost city 

under the sea

under the waves of a north pole, south pole, melting, burning

under the rising waves

I could not say their names

I do not have the tongue

I would not say their names

for fear of raising ghosts

lost city 

under the sky

under a cloud that will never go, ever grow, never blow away

under a cloud of gray

lost city 

under the bones

under a dry lake of everything eaten that could ever be eaten

under a bed of bones

I could not say their names

I do not have the tongue

I would not say their names

for fear of raising ghosts

animal ghosts in animal voices

lost planet 

under a spell

whirled away, world whirling, 

whirled away, world whirling, 

whirled away, world whirling, 

whirled away, whirling away