portland independent media center  
images audio video
newswire article creative portland metro

arts and culture

epigramme: my white kid

not sleepy enough yet
When I wanted to do the drug
it wasn't there
   but lost
           scattered into the tobacco and dirt
   so I couldn't sink into the tar
   and quicksand of sleep of some heroin velvet underground guitar riffs

prog rock

still on the edge of the mellow out we all need
the best we can do for the pitiful moment in music we live in
the drought has come
and a few drops of solice
    pour out of a few notes
    a few voices
    into my head
    which is parched for something
    to relieve this headache

this headache

tinkle tinkle
tight tight
tinkle tinkle
tight tight

still awake dreaming
of my white kid
her body under or beside me
in love
       oh so in love
       in the morning
       or dark night

making love to the sound of the ocean
fast upon us
as we try to make it just one more time
just one more time love
because we can
we should

there is a chorus of angels
singing us on
             and on
                   and on
and no other place
                  than here
and no other sound
                  than passion moaning
and no other person
                  than you

but where are you now?
when the darkest dark has come?

only in my heart
and I bring you up and out
to draw a smile on my face once again