1. |
Dowsed
03:13
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I shimmied out of my jacket and slung it down across the bar
The hotel, as a series of hanging flower baskets
The bartender pulled my jacket away like a tablecloth
The setting stolen, he flasked his fingers to spout
Three pondwater specimens in identical plastic tubs
A substrate for tadpoles to wiggle out little cricket legs
Flashing teeth and talking small to mask the destruction up my sleeve
S.N. sat down wearing a cotton candy colored blue dress
Starched stiff in the bodice, she crinkled like a bridesmaid
And held her purse from the top like a widdle doggie begging
In more than a minute I would be doused
A tadpole swimming crooked, pushing against one dead kicker
Making negative progress far, far, far into the muck.
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2. |
on a Space Holiday
03:01
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This was a time
during formation
when our hearts were soft
untethered in circulation
Destruction was wreaked
in these ephemeral places
In these holy places
We were young machines
We were young machines
The trailing fibers
seeking connections
splintered by blades
sweeping for ablations
We were young machines
uncalibrated, out of tune
foreign bodies introduced
ingesting the inorganic
years to be removed
Destruction was wreaked
in these ephemeral places
In these holy places
The floor plan gets more convoluted
refusal to do any more pruning
The floor plan gets more convoluted
refusal to do any more pruning
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3. |
Curcuit City, Fla
05:28
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The days are paced as different sets of soles
squeak, pad, scuff, or see-saw the worn floor
Days are lived with micro-flora swimming
Drink down mouthwash, savoring the sting
Different types of water we breathe
Pain in the temple, blood-brain leaks
Carbon compressing, so much pressure
The cluttering of consciousness
Visits to babies with flushed faces
Born with white hair and missing pieces
Separated chambers in their hearts
Holes plugged with Potato-Head parts
The moms and dads split the deck
They double-down every night
The moms and dad split the deck
hit after hit after hit
The days have all been misplaced
Dead-end nerves are what remain
There’s no easy way to map this code
There’s no easy way to come back home
The moms and dads split the deck
They double-down every night
The moms and dads split the deck
hit after hit after hit
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4. |
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5. |
This Suspension
04:21
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This suspension has passed
Below the astroturf mat
Genuflection was not refused
The vault capping a broken tooth
Pilgrims silent, pink roses in hand
Thumbing smooth stems where they can
Lipstick-licked petals preserved
Unnaturally but well deserved
This suspension has passed
Below the astroturf mat
Casket closed and the rosary
A brief dwelling in misery
And this was what she was to us now
Tastes of thin communion
Only registered in the throat
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6. |
No Strong Feelings
04:33
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Folding cold towels
In the unfinished room
Cutting up the clothing
For when life resumes
Taking a moment
And exploring the holes
A pile of rags
To burn myself whole
To burn myself
whole
I’m just paint on the doorknob
Won’t even grease your palm
I’m the soap that’s not strong
The agency to clean is gone
Leaving the conditioner in
I’m in no condition to be in condition
Leaving the conditioner in
I’m in perfect condition to be done in
I’m just paint on the doorknob
Won’t even grease your palm
I’m the soap that’s not strong
The agency to clean is gone
The agency is gone
It’s gone
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7. |
||||
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My room is a haunted haus
Stripped of context, I’m at a loss
Prayers directed toward two red lights
Pulsing and blurry in the night
Through open windows ghosts crept in
Wearing rippling -curtain wigs
Night air scooting on its back
Thrusting moths to attack
The glow of a slow wave dream
Scattering of prism beams
The glow of a slow wave dream
Scattering of prism beams
The glow the glow the glow
All the lightning-jagging lines
Were no longer just mine
My face pieces in disassembly
You held the gestalt internally
The glow of a slow wave dream
Scattering of prism beams
We played hide-and-seek
Beneath the Easter yellow-greens
A sky cathedral above our heads
New shapes in the clouds, all pretend
The glow, the glow, the glow
Two faint raps,
whispering into the door crack:
“Mom, I’m back.”
Sit at the kitchen table so perplexed in the dark
The dishwasher humming thunder down the drain
Nights with only one candle flame
At a time when I wouldn’t have dared
Hold your hand.
When the yellow glow from the Waffle House
Was not yet a slow-wave dream
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8. |
||||
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When I got outside
Grubbing in the soil
I found your words hidden
In a time capsule
Admiring the view
The window wall, the window wall
A little yellow bird takes flight
Nerve endings regenerating from you
Return, return, return
Return, return, return
Buried blossoms coming alive
A little yellow bird takes flight
From you from you from you
Buried blossoms coming alive
From you from you from you
From you from you from you
Return, return, return
Nerve endings regenerating from you
From you from you from you
Return, return, return
Return, return, return
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9. |
Curcuit City (reprise)
02:10
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10. |
This Reduction
04:50
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You brought it up. I mean the hecklers.
They were out there strewn amid the paper garbage.
Growing fat from the soil
From an overactive pituitary,
a surge atop the heads of crisped daffodils,
I was bulbed into the soil this shortened winter
and then pumped through and resolved,
the paper garbage blowing back a piece or two at a time.
if this spirit will stay then I will embrace it.
I will force it into a hollow-ringed body.
I will make it fit.
Make it fit
They were supposed to amputate at least a few toes."
the woman above me, I heard, should be home.
constructions?
or like bumble bees zapping
denouement es el mismo
The beginning is the end
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