Michael's Heaven from Night Language by Molly Shannon, Molly Shannon

So, now the Pike kids and their brothers
Have a place to sue the man
Leonard Cohen was the matchman
But, Sir Francis was the can.

And, often enough it occurs that there can be
A spot without a place
But, real city and the dinosaurs
Letter #1 was all on taste.

Oh, dear Jesus and your captain
I guess I only want to drive
But, the streets they never go nowhere
And, I guess we all know why-
In a horrible crash it dies
Forever and equal all your love…

Look reek, books. Get a head on the shelf-
Bet the grain for meat.
But, runny guns and subtle plans let take the ghoul full away
Like no one but the best friend of the beat.

I know no one
Don’t ask me.
I know no one
Don’t ask me.

Like little bins of suffering
In the casket,
Let little beams in of the suffering.
Can’t get stuck.
Don’t escape.

I don’t know no one
Ask me.

• Experimental
• Portland
• Seattle
• lo-fi
• spaghetti spaghetti spaghetti
• wasted
• Portland