Song at the Mouth of the Cave
He got all messed up on the lord, then brought me fishing.
The best thing about people is they’re all pieces of shit. The worst thing in the world to be is a
person, because people don’t realize a piece of shit is the perfect thing to be.
I closed my eyes and saw six billion soft serve heads melting, under an infinity of autistic neurons, a pile of dead leaves expanding at the edge of orbit, dead leaves whose life’s blood now
fills the punchbowl.
Us pieces of shit, we’re magic. We turn everything we touch to shit. Ain’t nothing better than
We carried our rods and empties back to the van. I watched the waterfall disappear between the
back window’s louvers and remembered a dream I inherited from my next door neighbor, where
every surface is too soft, and every step dents the ground and if you get caught leaving footprints they take you away to jail.
Adam Tedesco has worked as a shipbuilder, a meditation instructor, a telephone technician and cultural critic for the now disbanded Maoist Internationalist Movement. He is a contributing editor at the online literary journal Drunk In A Midnight Choir. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Pine Hills Review, Similar:Peaks::, dcomP and Again I Wait For This To Pull Apart, an anthology from FreezeRay Press. He lives in Albany, New York with his wife and two children.