It happened at Vodden and Main.
The world vulgar and beady, it sat there and changed.
Dispersing the cloud-up I'd followed I'd gathered disguising the groundwork I'd blue-skied I'd fingered dissolving directions I'd angled, remained
And landed at Vodden and Main.
I died there, at Vodden and Main.
It takes my breath the way a life is stained.
Undressing the curling you dance in you turn in unstopping arresting you give in you take in unfeeling all-seeing you bust out deranged.
You cut me at Vodden and Main.
You show me at Vodden and Main
And with the answer my vessel is drained.
Avoiding the cross-up I hold up I speed up and skidding wrongturning I trip up I fuck up and striding unswerving I wake up, insane:
Our eyes lock at Vodden and Main.
Our fates join at Vodden and Main.
We'll not see it or escape its like again.
Inventing. Dissenting. We'll founder and ponder unglimpsing or missing we'll wander, well yonder; no matter how long we can go on, entrained —
The truth lies at Vodden and Main.
PLQ.
[ From the chronology journal. ]
4 comments:
whats vodden n main
Try it in Google Maps. 8)
I feel a bit deranged now after reading this. It's demented and passionate in a very Poe sort of way. I like the lines that spill over and speed up the stream of consciousness; they put the reader through a rock tumbler.
Thanks Kate!
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