Thursday, December 4, 2008

The Chainsaws Say "Get Up!"

A crisp and explosive morning
does not meet well with blase'.
Chainsaws and the digital rings
of telephones; stomping of feet
and slamming of doors; grinding
and whining of street-cleaning
trucks do not meet well with blase'.
They spell the absence of sacred awakening.
Now, the sunshine has set the sky
to flames and they lick at the edges
of living space.
Sleep is impossible amidst such
industry, but now even nature
demands arousal.

Chainsaws, leaf blowers and
lawn mowers in "quiet"
neighborhoods replace gunshots and thunder
until the whole thing meets bombs.

The saxophonist can't sleep and now you are restless,
but when the man in the coveralls
puts down his hand-held engine
and the jazzman hears the humming of his
nervous system to the ticking of the
clock, the sunshine through the partially
open curtains is enough to relax
venomous vim and dash all hopes
of ever doing anything about it as
a child screams on a nearby ashphalt
playground, a delivery truck
roars the wrong way towards a dead end
and the church bell rings nine.

Brett Underwood


James said...

As good a birthday yawp as any, I s'pose. Y'ever see the footage of The Nuge digging a chainsaw into his upper thigh? It' s pretty tough business, boy.

kg said...

Happy Birthday, caveman. Sorry you didn't get to sleep in but it sounds like you had a nice morning.

Zed Naught said...

After hearing Sir Theodore pontificating on the Mighty MOX, I am not quite sure that I would be upset had he sawed a bit further towards femur.
Do they sell many records?