trailside memorial to what Philip Traylen calls the godhead.
3/24/2025 All Birdsong
overheard, oversaw -- beginning of Spring 2025 “I’m tired of political, point laden poetry” -- a shout from a passing POV Con/Jur/d, 3/24/2025 Understanding is a form of indulgence finally, we get this, yet we know this poem belongs to a better poet, with clean access to money, multiple houses -- landlord flexing clean water, diagnosable food -- label free the digital era is clearly cubist flattening all memories, all conversations all poorly understood, heavily advertised massively PROFITABLE, science -- a METHOD not a monolith one you’ve been convinced can only be performed by BIG CORPORATIONS, not you, not you NOT YOU Your consignment to the UNITED STATES of $$$bitches occupies the same space once reserved for birdsong a new trail, an argument with a friend on what mushroom this is, maybe, even escalating to an existential WELL THEN, EAT IT! And no m/atter, mmm adder, how it strikes you, memory is now overwritten by spin doctor theatrics, tales of GOOD and EVIL -- WE LOVE THE LORD OF THE RINGS too, and orc lives matter too, but we can’t all be Frodo or Gandalf THE GREATEST MAGICK SAURON EVER DID was not the ONE RING, but convincing us a spoiled, arrested adolescent who never stopped plucking wings from flies, who stole everything from better, more creative, more individual HUMANS is to be feared O O OOOOO this was not to be this kind of poem this was about how once we encountered mountains we knew they were ‘realer’ than us -- bigger, older, more massive with an unsurpassable gravitas, a lesson in what the kidz call “NON-DUALITY” and we called GETTING real HIGH but we were interrupted by a stranger’s wants and complaints creating instead this: our own pathetic trailside memorial to what Philip Traylen calls the godhead.
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 3/24/2025
Philip Traylen Curious (all misinterpretations, mistranslations and fuckwittery are solely ours):
I’m defo gonna call it United States of $$$bitches from now on