All Told—Jared Chipkin
We got there into socks into
shoes? On to the bass: blues.
We are there into Lethe into
death? Off to the Arctic: Meth.
We ate there into conflict into
cost? Out to the heavy: loss.
We laid there into science into
fable? Up to the chair: table.
We hoped there
into exhibition in for
plush? Down to the
bottom: lush.
We fled there into
sequence into per-
spication? Faring at
the last: sensation.
If being is light
and time
is a sight
hang a nose on a rose
and come in
If circles get square
and blinds
lose their hare
hang a bill on a sill
and come in
If the smoke gets
so much
and my cup
has a touch
hang a cone on a stone
and come in
The shore’s gone dry
or today is
a lie
I hang a chain on a train
and get in
O they assumed
the kids were alright
o they believed
I was just talkin’
’bout my generation
o they really didn’t know
what it was
to be the bad man
O they were terrified
of a teenage wasteland
o it had really
been too long
since they did the stroll
o too much time
had passed since
they first believed in
rock n’ roll
O they never were amazed at
the way it pulled them
out of time
O it didn’t really move
much faster
a rollercoaster