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letra de dreams of saint teresa - simon joyner

i got sick in the rain on some holy day dreaming
of st. teresa
and i lost all your pills after they spilled out of the
bottle into my possible futures
“well i’m not suprised, you’ve always gone blind
into anything requiring surrender”
faith told me that as she straightened her hat with
the lace & the ribbons and the cowbell

new-hitler was embarr-ssed he ordered the wrong
murders and since they couldn’t be reversed they
gave him lucifer’s
up in the hot air balloon the priest in charge of lime
blessed the wind and gave it reason to cover
everything that dies
but you weren’t surprised the mirror had advised you
to look no further for a villain
still the senator’s thug is sucking your thumb
trying to turn a black hat into a white one

my heart disappeared drinking in the desert
my lover was wild to be wreckage
and i was deformed then i was reborn as a howling
invisible insect
it was just like old times i took out my spine
and walked through the cool wet gr-ss alone
some people got it made, some people are saved
and some people are lost with the lights on

the fog on marianne from the tattoo to the hand
surrendered coolly above those emerald eyes
followed her around and swallowed all natural
sound leaving us intoxicated and a bit sterilized
but she wasn’t fazed she’s used to the praise she
gets for walking around naked with her cage on
so i groaned from the floor and i asked for some
more hoping greed would lead me to rapture

the vibrating cartoon of the bleeding canoe taking in water and resigning to sink
carried me from sleep deep into the tv where they
say nothing is sacred but at least everything is brief
i waited for my death i didn’t even hold my breath the
feathers in my headdress demanding no confession
but nothing rehe-rs-d in life or in verse had quite
prepared me for this very occasion

i shuddered from the start of the blood in my heart
and the vines growing out of my bed
the street plague and yellow billowing steam
was just a pillow i made for my head
i pulled back the tree that had grown over the ravine
to stare all day at its own reflection
then i joined the search for the great machine
i had heard cut the key that freed the blind man

- simon joyner

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