Tuesday, July 18, 2006

After the David Lynch Festival

After the David Lynch Festival

After the David Lynch Festival (2000)

I hang with Death I sleep
and dream of suburban

lush scenes where I wear
black in Technicolor. You

look extra weird today,
pull off the lost highway

and take a picture of my canary
as the dwarves in the radiator

sing some song backwards unless
I step in the magic vomit

which transmogrifies my shoes
into pet logs but I am

leaving Big Tuna I am
not an animal I am

a giant sand worm I fear
or else that Eraserhead brat

who cries each time I try
to close the bedroom door.

Baby wants to...

You stay alive, baby. Do it for Van Gogh.

[Image seen on ScreenSelect]

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