These drizzle-blurred weeks have passed in a mist of withering at tea parties; freezing at dinners; baking at dances; simmering at routs; and repeating the word Tofurkey in my head. Tofurkey, tofurkey, faux turkey, tofurkey. Rhythms that accompany whipped-up thoughts, as I imagine theremins wail...
(I am) a Lotus (Floating on the River (of Life))
Coffee with Kate is never just coffee
The buzz isn’t caffeine
Nor the sugar rush cake.
It’s band names and tip-offs
And costume and customs
And strutting whilst twirling
The microphone wire.
It’s underground murmurs
And what’s up’n’coming
And why a kimono’s
The best thing to wear.
It’s French words that ‘drift’
And prostitute paintings
And undoing apparent
Foundations of punk.
It’s song-swapping snap
And scribbles on paper
And mille fuille allusions
With eye-linered blink.
It’s Verlain, it’s Sickert,
And suave Jean Genet
And bowing at altar
Of Baroness Elsa.
It’s the merits of brackets
And the pleasure of Trash
And maintaining the buzz
That keeps finger on pulses.
It’s Dada and Dada
And dada and dada
And dada and dada
And dada and da…
Coffee with Kate is never just coffee
It’s more than just coffee
It’s more than just cake
It’s Dada and Dada
And dada and dada
And dada and dada
And dada and DA
3 comments:
i wrote the music to that by the way. i meant to tell u
I expect a performance when you come back t'north.
I don't want to subject ANYONE to my singing, this being the charitable season and all...
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