1. |
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I listened to the changing dialects of the sea
Whispering inside a shell
Will you devour me when my reclining bones
Disturb your ears & skull
How could I have kept you here
While the lupines blanket four
Four and a half miles
I already know what affections cannot be hoarded
But when I sleep alone
My knees grow cold
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2. |
Yet
03:18
|
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I hope I'm as smart as I think I am
Through the conversations we breathe
There are treasures in the morning
That last all afternoon
I hope to God I can see straight
I could hold my breath forever
Breathing in old shadows
I might get it yet
I might just get it yet
It's the space between it that
Keeps me swallowing this halo
In hopes that my bursting veins
Will restore
I want to kiss you on the eyes as a reward
For having no use for me
I might get it yet
I might just get it right
I might get it yet
I might just get it yet
I hope I'm as smart as I think I am
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3. |
Garden Stomp
01:58
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Ooze wait hover
Bumping meadow grass
A thousand upturned feet
Withdrawn daisies
Seed heavy
You are like nature
Uninspired and constantly
Rearranging
Nonetheless amazing
It's the ear's work
This one's misunderstood
While it's spoke
Yesterday I stepped on a snail
How do you stand unapologetic
With two feet on the ground
Trees nearby tumbled on their knees
You are like nature
Uninspired and constantly
Rearranging
Nonetheless amazing
How good it will feel
To forget this
when we're gone
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4. |
Rain Drops & Wet Feet
03:23
|
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My faith in science boiled down to nothing
So I quit watching the history channel for good
I guess that has some meaning
Forgetting shoes into the freshness of dew
The fog is always prettier
On the other side
I distracted myself with the slight resistance
Empty sweet talk & fragile bullets
As if the clouds ran out of room in the sky
& felt the need to remind
The dirt of it's presence
The fog is always prettier
The slightest trace of darling phantom
Nothing could make love stay
Too afraid of getting it's feet wet
The rain picks up hollows out
The sky's fragile grey
The joy remains on the puddles
Heavy until they evaporate
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5. |
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Morning salt, the smell of the breeze
Through the screen & the body of someone new
But it's just air & nothing looks more empty than air
Nursing the famished affection
The fragilest pieces of us feel like bone
Rend the shelter in your ears
We are all self-combusting things
The bones of this window are showing again
Curtains held ribcaged by the wind
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Turtle Turnip San Diego, California
My childhood was a heat haze of vision.
Sight connected with the idea of
sun
light radiant grains of reflected colors and shapes that appeared more bright
(contrasts the photography that my family kept under glass displays.
A faded focus; cool, & simmered down as if left more calm) than I can figure now.
... more
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