May 22, 2016

Hard Times × The Emperor of Ice-Cream

Trust me. The world is run on a shoestring.
They have no time to return the calls in hell

The first sentence asks for credence and negates credibility. The mention of “calls” and “hell” casts the speaker as a possible seducer/tempter. The second line also adjusts the image of the “world is run on a shoestring” from shoe to phone, and for me anyway: a phone abandoned, hanging on a wire from its booth.

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Played a hunch that a sort of association could be made between this and a poem by Stevens. Below are the lines that seem able to participate in such a give and take—

Trust me. The world is run on a shoestring.
They have no time to return the calls in hell

The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.

And pay dearly for those wasted minutes. Somewhere
In the future it will filter down through all the proceedings

As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month’s newspapers.

Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
Succinctly they will tell you what we've all known for years:

That the power of this climate is only to conserve itself.
Let be be finale of seem.

Whatever twists around it is decoration and can never
Be looked at as something isolated, apart. Get it? And

On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.

He flashed a mouthful of aluminum teeth there in the darkness
To tell however it gets down, that it does, at last.

Will have to dispel the notion of being like all the others.
To show how cold she is, and dumb.

In time, it gets to stand with the wind, but by then the night is closed off.
Let the lamp affix its beam.