RE: 2013 recordings

Little voice that piques and prances

I can hear you over these bad speakers,

close.

Nothing more familial or familiar

voice of my roots, ashy

Mechanically cold.

Distant.

Impossible for you to be

here,

for your voice to be anything

besides imitation,

a bittersweet illusion.

Oubliez le regret

Keep your heart always in good humour

For we all ache the morning after great mistakes

And hindsight laughs that we could not see her sooner

 

It’s hard to cope with an unseen future;

all the world rests on our worried shoulders,

so keep your heart always in good humour.

 

Morning comes with terror’s rumour

flooding the mind with last night’s blunders,

and hindsight laughs that we could not see her sooner.

 

Just so, treat each mistake a tutor;

We cannot hide from each small tumble;

Keep your heart always in good humour.

 

A day will come when fate seems looser,

when your choices lay bare and humble,

and hindsight laughs that we could not see her sooner

 

Humans were all made to suffer.

We all ache the morning after great mistakes,

but keep your heart always in good humour;

Hindsight always laughs that we could not see her sooner

Aboveground

The geometrically lit windows,

3

stacked and                                                                       two                      beside

a row of darkness between.

From the train

the streetlights

                    yellow or red, romantically

remind riders of life outside

                               outrospection

lives beside the travelling t h o u g h t

offices with investment, meetings, and deadlines

your mind

comprised of responsibility;

not these.

 

the tube so silent

each crackling turn of the page

an indiscrete message

They Know

I write about them.

 

Not an ounce of privacy left

no right kind of privacy.

Convenient                                                 sales and recommendations

What are we sacrificing?

Was it really ours?                                                                            Or mine?

did it really belong.

 

He coughs; we all hear

it, beside ourselves

within these cars.