techno songs about heaven play on the radio
by mud howard
in the South they skin snakes
summer is clean and streaked with bodies
the soft, mouldy eye of the storm winks
& your gift is your shyness
the synthesizer urges you to come forward
place your hands on the magic
amputated strips of astroturf
& inhabit your life
the new world will be built
by allowing gentleness to gather within you
subterranean trust in another person’s
body breaking down, atomizing into sleep
ignore love
name a planet after yourself
memorize a phone number
get held
today you are a teenager
tomorrow you go