Alabama Hobart from Savoir Vivre by Gig Culture

It started off
Whispering in the
Earthy darkness
Subterranean catacomb
Conversations climaxing

Tongues lap rhythmic
Entwining saliva
Along
The twisting pronged
Tributaries of the Styx
You wanna commit?
We’ll take that easy
Achillean dip

And unladen ourselves
Of the seediness
This humid night
Was making
Above the river midnight
Underneath the fleshy soil
Plum teardrop of moon
Loiters looming
Out of place and
Swanlike shifting
Tracing an elucid lightness
Ballet on the overwhelmed banks
Bearing silk scarves of
Fragrant lavender in bloom

You’re wanting it on tissue paper
Or a lounge of incense ash
Elysiums here and
Ya know
Pleasure’s not that bad
But there is comfort in the final saw stroke

Unsheathed critique removes me
Of the wastewood of my being
Underneath my sawdust altar
To the rebirth
Any longing glances
Are unseen

The cuts were long and
Whirring teeth blunt
And rusty but
Didn’t they do their job just fine?
Could I really doze off
Blissed and heartfelt
By the hidden forest river wide
While that sawmill’s roaring form
Outside informed me of the
More-real-than-art-school-lovin
Shadows dancing on the cave wall
To this song?

When the call of taming processes
And drive to industry lures me back
Afterwards
Where flowed the sap
Smaller practical
Invulnerable and unvarnished
Lies merely a splintered
Spat out plank

Cynical wooden arsehole
Obscenely
Sneering up at culture
From my coop
Surrounded by the sanguine nymphs
Narrating happy waltzes
Of these hidden dreamy
Groves and grooves

• Alternative
• post-punk
• Hobart