Four Poems
No one pulls the drowning from the water
to bury them, they remain
floating on their backs, just beneath the surface.
They drown out of love,
distraction, anguish,
out of fascination with the abyss,
out of weariness. In their own way, they continue to breathe;
they pursue, in their own way, the light.
Each night, they repeat, in their pure
language, without subjunctives,
the silent and pure tongue of the drowned…
By Carlos Barbarito.
3:AM Top 5: Viv Albertine
The legendary Slits guitarist Viv Albertine is playing music again, and it was well worth the wait. “At the moment I am writing and recording my own songs,” she told 3:AM. Viv is working with Zoe Street Howe (vocals/various instruments), Dylan Howe (drums), Ross Stanley (piano/organ), Steve Beresford (piano) and others. She is also listening […]
President’s Day Weekend
There definitely wasn’t a hero. Twelve people in the kitchen tripping on acid watched Natalie run across the backyard at five in the morning. She was in cowboy boots and Tommy’s Grateful Dead T-shirt. We all watched her go into the woods and no one thought anything of it, no one went after her – not even Amber Montgomery, her best friend since second grade. We watched her through the plate glass window; it was just starting to get light, the sky shifting from black to a dull gray. There she was, Natalie Williams, running. That was last time she was seen alive, we ended up telling the cops.
By Susan Buttenwieser.