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"A GROSS DOMESTIC PRODUCT"

by *spandrel

/
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1.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
i don't know anyone i don't go anywhere anymore i was made for these times
10.
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

about

(were a family band)

credits

released April 19, 2020

This album was born out of collaboration with The Trash Pile. Various synths, samples, instrumentation, and other sounds were provided by LukeB and drewd as indicated. A huge thanks to them and the rest of The Trash Pile.

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*spandrel Columbus, Ohio

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