one night at Lou’s gig

Lou remember me from the nose bleeds at the Greek
among the stars and trees you sang about magic loss and happenstance
we were together in LA
no one thought about the irony of your songs or the tragedy in the sparks of people keeping people down forever the sigils of history warn
that night when the heirs raised their fisted hands for some questionable victims
the silver spoon afternoon faculty culture bunch joined the fun to line their vote pouch
the loss streamed with hemorrhaging velocity happenstance remained the same
under controlled televised well made up coiffed dos they watched her burn five days the news ministers said
yet we were all born simmering
Lou i left the forest and i left you
to feel the burn wicked with the same  fire of Pharaoh and Baba-ato
the Tlatoani and Xia and Shang
but in modern America Lou we both agree we prefer to do it Roman style

beauty quiz flunkee

i like to wear the black t shirts like Lou Reed wore
and my eyelashes full of black goop eyeliner slapped on crooked
the kids they talk of Spotify but they’ve never felt the living beat of playing a Fender Jazz bass guitar im just a girl but not really just uh girl there’s kinda a lot of intersectionality my heart she beats in tiny bits when we see your smile and when i bathe i hear Sweet Jane whispering to me under water and on some nights my eyes can’t sleep we chew our nails and tap our feet the holes on my black jean’s get wider i think my feet are kinda big as i bounce twinkling stars off the tips of my toes from the blue sill of my bedroom window but then the sounds of laughter travels from some neighbor’s t.v. reminding me of the possibility that i might just order botox shots tomorrow

The lost poetry of Lou Reed — Tribrach: for those who love (or would like to love) poetry

‘We are the people who are desperate beyond emotion’: Lou Reed’s lost poetry to be published: Poetry reflecting on nationhood, sex and whiskey, written in 1970 after Lou Reed left the Velvet Underground, is to be published for the first time – Ben Beaumont-Thomas – The Guardian – 3/2/18 “The poetry comes from a six-month period […]

The lost poetry of Lou Reed — Tribrach: for those who love (or would like to love) poetry