Brentt Harshman

It’s the smell of hot summertime trash.
It’s the city noise of a busy street.
It’s a train derailed and two car head
on freeway crash each time we meet.
“and if it comes as some sort of surprise,”
she said “that I seem so composed, I’ve
kept this moment closer to my eyes,” she
said,”than the glasses resting on the
edge of my nose.”

Shadow am I! Shadow am I!
A question of a person, no said reply
Wolf am I!
Wolf and shadow cast on the sheep as I pass by.
Shadow am I! Shadow am I!
or like a wearing-black-socks-and-white-woolen-locks
Wolf am I!
And shadow.

She was graceful and green as a stem,
but I walk heavy on delicate ground.
Oh, there I go showing off again.
Self-impressed by how well I can put myself down…
and there I go again, to the next further removed
level of that same exact feigned humility,and this
for me goes on and on to the point of nausea

Shadow am I!
Like a suspicion that’s never confirmed but it’s never denied
Wolf am I!
No, “shadow” I think is better,
Because I’m not something more like the absence of something
So Shadow am I!

The whole material world seems to me like a
newspaper headline. It explicitly demands your
attention and it may even contain some truth…
but what’s really going on here?

One day the water’s gonna wash it away
One day the water’s gonna wash it away
One day the water’s gonna wash it away
and on that day…
One day the water’s gonna wash it away
One day the water’s gonna wash it away
Nothing clever to say.
One day.
Nothing else to say.