1. |
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|
Burn the Verses in the Yard
The ashes a-flame
Drifting far
Burn this old notebook
Disappearing in a White soot
Here's the Start
to no more selfish art
Can't keep this up now
can't keep this up too long
Let my own heart
Let my own Heart I more have Pity on
Here we are in our beds
Remembering those who we forget
do indeed
exist
And seeping into my breast
the risk of being obvious
with this dust on my lips
Can't keep this up now
Can't keep this up too long
Let my own heart
Let my own heart I more have pity on
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2. |
Walk In Season
03:48
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|
We were tender headed and bold
Now we're wild and old
I'm not
you are
would I?
would we?
walk in season
you are more than what I hold
I can not keep you for my own
under the sod of proper names
left to contemplate
I would highly advise
keep the dumb life of the roots and broken wings
walk in season
Did you forget about the creek
under the falling limbs of the fragility
of moments snapped
we can't bottle and cap
Walk in Season
We were tender headed and bold
Now we're wild and old
I'm not
you are
would I?
would we?
Walk in season
We were tender hearted and bold
now we're wild and our pockets full of gold
I'm not
you are
would I?
would we?
Walk in season
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3. |
Papunya
02:29
|
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|
The pattern is long
The pattern is far
O, Trace away
The pattern is Far
The pattern circles around
O, trace away
The Patterns on the Wall
The Patterns of painted Dreams on the Wall
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4. |
Cello
06:48
|
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|
The abandoned air you stand firm
The tremors of a violence that has never been heard
The speed of these roads must mean we're out of tune
( I am sorry. Will you forgive me?)
An impulsive stroke of a pen
leading away from a non-fiction
while your hands hold this trembling
and keep us in tune
O, the vibrato of the times
Your hands on the bow.
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5. |
Mt. Princeton
03:31
|
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|
Am I breathing this in or choking you out
by the seed of the mount and the spruce
Does this have anything to do with you?
Or am I just feeling some strange power to choose?
Fly on, fly on like river
hot head and morbid shiver
mountain black like construction paper
A new descent another layer
Miles down
Bumps of Devil's tongue
Good Lord, good Lord, good Lord
look at my brother run!
The first time I felt the wind in me
Where it pierces thunder and revelry
and it leaves a few
Dancing in their boots.
Rosie Finch will you help me to choose
between me and you.
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6. |
Xenophilia
03:27
|
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|
Exclusive while inclusive
on the inside by yourself
on the outside all alone
inside outside all alone
inclusive by yourself
inside all alone
there is more to give then this inside outside shit
while inside all alone.
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7. |
Blooming and Blushing
01:41
|
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8. |
Fields of Phosphene
04:20
|
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|
It came to me as I recalled Tomorrows
Your shoes of Sedum and Yarrow
Were rising up your legs
This thought is ready for disc and harrow
Where the mountains were made low
and planted in what we wanted to say
They were words we missed in our cars alone
and come back when we were gone
like moth to porch light
I reaped what I did not sow
I shook and I fell out of this place.
A studied face and all the studied captions
Saved, held and rationed
Until we're all starved and dead
Lost colors ready for disc and harrow
Where the mountains were made low
and planted in what we wanted to see
They were colors we missed in our cars alone
and come back when we were gone
When our eyes were closed
I reaped what I did not sow
I shook and I fell out of this place.
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9. |
No More Solos
04:59
|
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|
Your solo is rising up above the choir
and it's swaying the whole floor
what a duet we could make with no more solos
Your throat shifts and shakes then retires
and it's swaying is hard to ignore
what a duet we made with no more solos
Your voice rises and falls then expires
but its still swaying the whole floor
what a duet we could of made with no more solos
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10. |
Leaving Rooms
03:02
|
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|
Your missing from the room
the room full and laughing
your empty chair a ghostly white plastic
We go to your car
We go to your spot
The things I presume
You have a way of leaving rooms
But we will wait on you
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11. |
Trails
02:26
|
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12. |
Abiding
07:24
|
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|
White Stag
White Flag
White Stag
The combination of the night wind with doubt
Three-eyed
Three-eyed breath unto the lungs
a car door slams us all awake
Jet streams
Jet streams red as a whipped back
suffering the ignorance of the family tree
Keeping
Keeping in touch has nothing to do with touching
We sit on the floor and eat our breakfast right
Be as a poem in 3-D
Unconditioned air maybe
As swallow belly dipped into this lake
as white stag three-eyed jet streams
and the ripples will find us on shore.
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