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from 'The Tree-Line'

last nite by a skatepunk fucked chock-full of aldrin adrenaline,
mohawk-badgered, cock-a-hoop, surfing melismatic paroxetine,
to a comedown junkie tip felt lack of klezmer geist in the machine,
stuck in a loop of shallow breathing, gagging for khoomei, unsaline,
unleaving in a profligate swoon & gunning for the delayed subroutine,
born under heavy viral assault & smacking of mcluhan's vaseline,
under the green stars the seas sail the world below the tree-line.

audrey & landlocked, gripped by the sudden pain of history,
i'm sold on the strap-line 'get free e-mail and be world-weary'.
scraped, morselised scud-ring, like boomer will gamely move on t.v.,
the dimensions of net-worked memory packs confound complexity
so will i not be traced back to the wristband of my dialytic family.
while brightly in the trailer-park my gran'ma cusses out saint valentine,
under the green stars the seas sail the world below the tree-line.