Father John Misty
possessed by the spirit of Elliott Smith
Preaches like a holiday reverend
Over rhodes piano riffs and Figure 8s
falling sideways like lamniscate jokes
And hamlet references that fly over
The heads of serial killers and tennis players
Watching the footnotes and recording their dreams
While watching nothing happen in real time
And everything else happening
In a short foreign film about a boy
And his balloons

And darkness creeps in around the
Frame of his lilting
anguish
While he bareknuckle boxes
his demons
And Pitch shifting chaos
seeps in
Where the bag crumbles
Under dramatic swells

And I watch.