Silliman's Papers

The Thelonious Death of Music and the Dylan Pox of Rage
By Daniel Silliman, Nov. 2003.

Oh yeah he was famous
long ago you wouldn’t know
electric violin turned bludgeon
beating out the face
flat damn her anyway
and now he’s sweeping up.
You wouldn’t think. Sweet fucking rage.

And since violins are for intellectuals and freaks
they’re all locked in towers now
and no one can wear a beard.
The subway went silent
he’s performing public art with a broom
so the last dog died.

He kicked that dog but the dog died
maybe they’ll give him another one
but the cigarette machine doesn’t think so.
      They said
the electro-violin was gonna
undermine the world save the world
shave the stave the wave the pearl
but it gave the dog a howl and made a pretty face pretty flat
and the guy that gave him the broom said
it was all worthless you know.

Pock Mate, he said.
Purely poppy taste and kiddy curdled gut
see
      they only play checkers these days.

Come out from behind the eye patch,
he screams at pirates riding mopeds
while he swats off piercing pawns because
you can’t forget the pawn that’s lagging.
      Looking at him y’know.
King trapped in a corner where the dead dog is turning sour
and the daily says Fuck the Bitches in 70 point


but that was on TV a week ago.