Pronounce the title as “live–on earth– LIE-V” A concert for the end of the world. The King of Lies conducts. A volcano choice to erupt against them, the OTHER the ones who will not see it the way they should.
Channy sees her feet on soil as a prayer on earth, for earth, pulling from the center of her molten self into ambulation. Your permutation?
Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.
My ass is numb my face is ablaze I’m hunched over the turntable listening to Janis. She is alive in a way I am told only ugly girls can be the music press and male writers tell me that. Her Monterey performance–LIVE–was full of pejoratives about her looks and ignored the locomotive of her voice the stippling Doppler strength, the muscled pain she belts. Cry baby, cry baby.
See the insane. duck your head under the insane. The screen crawl blats in a logical line. That in fact, is also insane. What is the president saying on your phone screen today? Who has died? Miss Melly from Gone with the Wind. When you were a little girl did you wear frilly socks and kneel in church and pray to be a doormat like Miss Melly? Just less brazen as Scarlett but not by much. Live on earth these dead women are characters in a play that continues to play with my head. Miss Melly draping into Ashley’s arms and Ashley looking over her shoulder at Scarlett’s bosom. Sexy skulking sulking Scarlett.
Live on earth there’s a virus. Live, fresh from empty stages there’s music no one can hear. Live free die harder; soldiers have boots on ground thousands of years not ours or theirs those theres are hunched over from years of territorial pissings as Kurt would sing. I met a man from Kurdistan and asked about the food. Was it good? Like, food truck good? Live on earth in search of the unfound cuisines to appropriate and claim in imperial hipster greed.
Live on earth my granddaughter screams into the sky in pure joy.