Halloween Mix Tape!

For your listening pleasure, I have compiled a fucking TERRIFYING playlist for Halloween. Do you dare listen to :

Halloween Mix Tape 2012: Scary-Ass Jamz For Witches and Ghouls and Dracula by Chris Evangelista

July

July is almost over. Ever closer to autumn.



Explosions pillaging the night 
From the fireworks on the fourth of July 
It's just my lady, our friends, and I 
Smoking cigars and yelling at cars as they drive by

We scaled a ladder ascending to the roof 
While five years ago I weeped and no one knew
Holding my guitar, I strummed a tune 
I sang "I love you but I have to cut you loose"

As the neighbor lights off the small bombs we watch 
from the rooftop... safely, so safely

If I had never let go, then only God knows where I would be know
I made a bridge between us then I slowly burned it 
Five years ago, in my backyard I sang love away
Little did I know that real love had not quite yet found me

Brick Apartment Building, 1935

His Hands

rough and red

tiny individual dark hairs

on thick knuckles gnawed nails

Hands that reached for her in the darkness.

They were both loving and cruel.

They stroked her hair and blackened her eyes.

When he died

in his sleep that August night

she took the cleaver

from the kitchen

and lopped those hands off.

She buried them in a shoe box

in the small fenced

in patch of grass

that was the backyard

under a red moon.

When Spring came

tulips bloomed

along with five roses

with thick thorny stems.

Recorded spoken-word version of the poem, with music by Luke Willis:

Final Days

We shall all become cleansed when

we find the car,

nestled amongst the rubble and the ashes,

down in the alley,

where the wild root grows.

I saw the search-lights

reflected on your sooty skin,

and smelled the kerosene

in your clothes,

and pictured you in flames

among the art-work,

a come-hither smile on your lips.

When they call our numbers

on the megaphones,

we fix our hair in the reflection

of a cracked store-front window,

put on our best faces,

march two by two.

At the last hour,

you will be made powerful and terrible,

you will find beauty within the bones.

At the last hour,

I will become something

extraordinary.

Recorded version of the poem; Words by me, music by Luke Willis

Inches of Skin

We both count the white lines

in the road as the old car carries us home.

I like the style of your clothes, the pea coat, the flat shoes,

the grey jeans.

The heater is broke and the radio plays static

low.

You hate the sound of your own voice,

and all I wish is to hear you sing.

Run red nails through your red hair

your red lips held tight.

When they break and you smile I catch

a glimmer in your eyes.

I don’t speak.

I realize that here, in the front seat,

we are nothing but inches of skin

separated by an armrest

and the past.

Here is a recorded version of the poem--spoken by me, with music by the great Luke Willis