1. |
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like a magnolia blossom
my hands open wide
petals brushing cheeks
I bring your face to mine
we were reunited
in a forest beneath the trees
slow dancing on a bed
of pine in our bare feet
and what’s happened here
has already occurred to me
because lover we’ve willed ourselves
into each other’s dreams
with you what was never old always stays new
from the dancing static a sweet tune protrudes
it’s your name your name your name
and what’s happened here
has already occurred to me
because lover we’ve willed ourselves
into each other’s dreams
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2. |
Inan Omaha Graveyard
03:13
|
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|
the moths are back: skittering along telephone wires
the moths are back: tracing a wounded trajectory
the moths are back: disappearing into asphalt gaps
I collect glass from riverbeds
and insert the shards
into my ever palpitating heart
the junk in there looks blue
and keeps it shape like thawing ice
in a room swollen with natural light
she looks just like the last one, but paler, paler
she rested her wings flat on a bare white wall and I lost her
I lost her
I opened the windows –
the thin air at this atmosphere will impale her, impale her
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3. |
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|
we sleep with the windows open
always this time of year.
sensory neurons
come alive like spider webs
on dew-speckled lawns
we hit the sheets so fresh
sub-merged and cleansed
we hit the sheets so fresh
submerged and cleansed
we sleep with the windows open
always this time of year
opened up like apple blossoms
shake and fall to the lawns
we hit the sheets so fresh
submerged and cleansed
we hit the sheets so fresh
submerged and cleansed
those fibers striving
those fibers striving
for total Surface area
we sleep with the windows open
always this time of year
eyes fixed to the ceiling
and then the curtain clears
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4. |
Line of Horizon
02:40
|
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|
in that interval, I was driftwood – the space where the ebb
and pull of your breathing carried me along, kept me afloat
in that interval that folded in on itself and therefore
could not exist, the line of horizon vanished
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5. |
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6. |
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|
It must have been during wartime
with correspondence, pictures, postcards
Every one, the envelope wide
containing some sense of yearning
It must have been during wartime
Using my view from the tower
Deadly aim and female fire
Every window orange in our home
I carried us across the threshold
I kept the fire burning
The beginning met the end
And let us start all over again
The beginning met the end
And let us start all over again
There was magic in the air
Axons make stalwarts, cold-pressed
walking through the fog, evidence
that it rained. spiderwebs made visible by moisture
Real leaves in the wallpaper, holes in the screens
A handful of doves that flew back when released
We keep rolling, rolling in fever
bed sheets are curtains, the windows our dream
The beginning met the end
And let us start all over again
The beginning met the end
And let us start all over again
The land outside the window is sinking
Bullets are landing, the trees are shrinking
everything but you is getting further away
further away
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7. |
Through a Cracked Screen
04:45
|
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|
I am just a young man lost
Here I am in front of a blue screen
Here I am a blank faced passenger
Passing through stoplights
Blacking out in the backseat
I have no dreams
I have no desires
In telephone lines
Bathrooms and elevators
Silence sponges my thoughts
I am just a young man lost
a young man lost
I am just a young man lost
Here I am sealed In a rented room
Here I am breathing oxygen from a mask
The sounds bouncing off the walls
Fill the room like foam insulation
displacing the air
Leaving me with nothing
Leaving me with nothing
But withered memories
And broke-apart moments
Blowing kisses to a cracked screen
blowing kisses
Blowing kisses to a cracked screen
blowing kisses
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8. |
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|
Fell asleep flying into
the feature film
before the previews
(momma bought me that mocking bird)
The sleepymen reaching me
Filling up my eyelids
When I came to the ushers were striking matches and balancing their brooms on one finger. Bartenders stream in from the emergency exits. Wearing bow ties and black vests, they open briefcases strapped with bottles. They pull out combs and slick back their already slicked back hair. They swipe popcorn off the concession counter and then pour a line of glasses with Manhattans. They sing this dirge to steep the new day in.
I’m rubbing my eyes and swatting through the air.
I walk out of the theater, my face fixed in a Man Ray gaze,
It’s strange that the parking lot’s been repaved,
Mylar balloons float waist-high like someone’s birthday blew away.
I put my hand out for someone to take it, left dragging,
it's such a relief that my memories have all been replaced.
It’s such as relief that my memories have all been replaced
It’s such a relief
My memories
My memories
Have all been replaced
Have all been replaced
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9. |
cold breathing again
03:36
|
|
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|
The wasting snow banks simmer like fog machines
And threaten to transport
Our reflections into the bathroom mirror
(the bathroom mirror)
In this atmosphere of haloed sidewalks and snipped pine needles
I could be just another guy with glue on his lips
Another guy with glue
Another guy with glue on his lips
(glue on his lips)
The wasting snow banks simmer like fog machines
And threaten to enrobe
Our shadows into something we won't recognize
In this atmosphere of preserved detritus and scraped shrapnels
I could bludgeon my already purple fingertips
Again and again
And again and again and again
I could be just another guy with glue on his lips
Again and again and again
Again and again and again
And again
|
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10. |
|
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11. |
someone asked
03:42
|
|
||
|
The streets are awash
With anticoagulants tonight
I was out searching For the drowning parade
And I found them
I found them
Someone was knocking on the door for hours
The filaments fragile and bouncing
Someone was asking if I woke up on the wrong side of the bed
Someone had strung up my name in lights, put my feet in boiling water
Someone was asking if I was okay
Someone was asking
Someone was asking if I was okay
Someone was asking
But I would not break my dream
I would not break
My dream
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12. |
|
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|
The car was half-buried
parked in someone’s yard
the streets had no meaning
we were all too drunk to drive
We were all too drunk to drive
and when we came outside
the precipitation had lightened up
snowflakes strolled through the streetlamp glow
pausing momentarily to pose
the sky came straight down into the rolling snow banks
Doing everything we could to disrupt the segregation of atmosphere and snow, we kicked up an impressive whirlwind of powder. Enveloping our bodies in a blurry gauze, capillaries were bursting like fireworks in our cheeks.
The bitter wind joined in our revelry
as it lifted and redistributed the
emancipated snowflakes
disseminating our particles in the snow.
we became the scenery that was now half-tone
It was like walking in the clouds
It was like walking in the clouds
and I’m lying flat on my back now
I’m lying flat on my back now
I’m lying flat on my back now
I’m lying flat on my back
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13. |
|
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I was born on crutches
My bones didn’t have a structure
It protected me from my crushes
A hood they couldn’t puncture
So I went on limping
No days without slipping
Until i met my true love
In the taxidermy museum
Holding hands
Holding hands
I met my true love
In the taxidermy museum
She pinned herself on me
Petals loose but tucked in sleeves
This heavy lipped cutie
Swarmed me like a hive of bees
We dined on plates of pearl
Drank formaldehyde with Ensure
She pinned herself on me
To the tylenol she cried joyfully
Holding hands
Hold my hand
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