Metamachine Chews the Typewriter - for Lou Reed

In memoriam Lou Reed who passed away yesterday, here is a poem I wrote while listening to his Metal Machine Music as part of a sound installation at MOMA PS1 entitled Volume: Bed of Sound (July 2–September 30, 2000).

Metamachine Chews the Typewriter

There was no big click, just a continuing

     round robin of an almost rhythmic death circus.
We collapse once a day, march generationally
     without certain uniform socks or stories.

Heat bugs and hiccups and water dripping.
Getting to 28, getting to 30
     whether not or whether we dry off.

 Silence is an interruption among sounds.

We run along on tracks to morning station

     pulling the sprinkler onto the lawn

     bare feet squeak along wet grass.

 Put on a shawl and take a gander from the back porch!

The national anthem is just a tone
     a circus a tone, Coney Island
     the Republican National Convention.
We have no war on our turf.

H. D.  saw the tombs
     open to the sky
Do we take roofs for granted
     or are they obstructions to sky?

Volume: Bed of Sound
installation view
photo Eileen Costa
http://www.artnet.com/magazine/news/newthismonth/ntm7-1-14.asp