I was a blues singer and then I died, wait
that isn't true I was never a singer.
I only know the art of the shadowside
because I am dead. The blues don’t just burst
from a river; they tunnel slowly out
of head hells. You need to have a big hurt
before you sing the insides of a melon.
A spirit is said to choose its muscles
and I picked mine down to the eyes. No one
would pin me for a tambourine; I never shook
in waking hands. I won't be a singer
in my next life either, I will only
feather my hair. A foxhole prayer
for second lives is let there be no songs.
Melissa Broder recommends this video of GG Allin on Geraldo in 1992. RIP GG.
(For December at Everyday Genius, contributors were asked to recommend something elsewhere on the Internet.)