1. |
(SHE's) a small wonder
03:36
|
|||
she plays the piano softly in this house
flood water in the basement
she plays the piano softly in this house
insulation smoldering in the attic
beds packed between the slats, can't sleep
the infrastructure so heavy - rain for February
sodden with sounds and sheddings
this house is recording. this house is stretching
its roots into everything.
it's raining again
in February
|
||||
2. |
-0f Broken fingers
04:35
|
|||
There's a chorus of crows that's been following me
There's a chorus of crows that's been hounding me
collected in tree tarsi
beaks staged like scissors
signalling a taunting torture
they testify, they testify
There's a chorus of crows that's been following me
There's a chorus of crows that's been hounding me
I accept their sentence
as one point collapsed on itself
I betray myself by looking up
I am not part of a constellation
|
||||
3. |
slow perishing
03:55
|
|||
uncertain noises in this house
weird smells in the dryer vent
after the rains we go swimming
we go swimming in construction sites
and the traffic,
the traffic's never been better
|
||||
4. |
March Makes Skeletons
03:38
|
|||
in early March, the snow flees
rolls back its sleeves as it retreats
up the lawns, raking skeletons
a deprivation of flesh revealing
last season's leftovers uncurtained
like a cracking woman's figure
illuminated but not meant to be seen
|
||||
5. |
slow fast radio bursts
01:33
|
|||
6. |
no/d*sires
02:53
|
|||
there's a family living in my garbage disposal.
they nest in a rotting sponge -
like the seeds of a pomegranate
i swear they'
re multiplying by the day down there -
feeding and fucking
feeding and fucking
feeding and fucking, eating their offspring... live!
|
||||
7. |
||||
I plod the broken ground
an oxen loosed from its yoke
stumbling where the regressed nerves
have left ghost pocket punches
choke cherry trees choke out
the outside world
|
||||
8. |
domestic product
03:37
|
|||
bar soap for the hands
bar soap for the hair
scrub the floors with bar soap
polish the doorknobs with bar soap
wash the vegetables in bar soap
cake the plates in bar soap
scrub your hands
scrub your hair
the deer are bolder now
they mow the window boxes
grazing the brick, grazing the brick
the predators will not come back
|
||||
9. |
human commerce, boy
03:11
|
|||
i don't know anyone
i don't go anywhere
anymore
i was made for these times
|
||||
10. |
THE NEW OLD HEGEMONY
04:24
|
|||
my gaze belies a butcher shop, fronting affectless
knives pin-pricking winces, smothering signal flares
my gaze can focus, but with a diet nutritionless
fiberglass insulation brings indulgent starvation
my untraveled hands wibble-wobble
the plane crashing with every replication
every unzippering down
stroking a short circuit
it's more programming
more programming
my right hand divorced
from my left hand
GOODBYE CORPUS CALLOSUM
|
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