Impulse
And they are empty Their hats are small It’s just me now No reason to fake or crawl There’s nothing to fight for Let them take it all We live on in a string of threads Impulse is a strong motivation Be aware of consequence It is the primary cause Of inconsequence I feel so irrelevant One minute to the next That’s what’s so interesting About the internet. Georgia O'Keefe We will set up two studios With lots of pleasurable things In between We will walk into the night And gaze at the stars If I had a brave companion I would gladly live And combine with the spirits A rifle by my side I am loaded but living free Like Georgia O’Keefe This world is not for me. He Phones He phones me when I’ve lost my phone For a second I almost remember What I dreamt last night. I wash it down with alcohol And go to sleep again I really nail it today For the petit bourgeoisie. I was the best thing Which is why we met When the world goes black We’ll cuddle again. I finally found my white wand And the circle of light to banish it from One foot away is where we’ll stay. You may not enter here All things are possible Except for happiness Those who want it have it least. You Shot Me Still, you shot me last night Thought we were better than that We aren’t living long, are we? I am the thing called death And I’ll see you after a while. You hold my heart with your trigger This thing they call love And no dreams Nothing left But memories of what used to be. Stay with me— Tonight I don’t recognize the name of the poet The signature, the annotation, None of it It is mine. Mother Mother comes in dreams Offering me skirts I would never wear Short skirts A-lines in bright pink or navy blue She says, “Now you’ve put on weight, They’d look good on you.” She must fix me somehow Her Cinderella So we are she Wear her clothes And have her body. Gall We’ll see you every once in awhile On a lonely street I hold the golden fleece Empty drinks Empty sinks Empty bars A small hill to keep in place A cleft on a sharp chin No one except one old used to be Somewhere there’s a paper with my words on it They’ve got me They’ve got gall Ready to fall The men at the other end The men on the other side. Outlaws I lived underground Then went somewhere And started over again I had a voice like a sedative Things turned out perfectly The bars stayed open I could drown out cars I could crease my cheeks. Someone would find me We’d align like planets We were practiced outlaws. The moon falls and the world wobbles But we get the plot We beat them to the draw We’re high on the chain. Thread I lose the thread Pretend it’s not happening I slather on paint All this frivolity has gotten to me. There’s a plane to catch to eternity Jokers confess alibis I’m willing to believe. Futures I predict futures when no one is listening I predict futures all of the time This is what happens when no one is listening The future surprises the deaf and blind. You don’t need absolution dragging around But if you do, it’s the same old sound There’s just so many ways to brutalize the empty I distil frequencies – it’s not as easy as it sounds. I Love You Another delicate breakdown Another reason to laugh No need to disillusion me Never explain anything. I love you. Bio: Elizabeth Cusack is a recovering actress. Ever since playing Rhoda Penmark in “The Bad Seed” as a child, deservedly, she has endeavoured to keep up her end of the bargain. Elizabeth has been blessed with the best of teachers over the years, mostly from the school of hard knocks. She has championed and performed in fringe theatre in America. Elizabeth edits her favourite poet while not otherwise inspired by her muse to write.
Fevers of the Mind 