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Time Four

24 Dec

Marconi Union – Transient

Hush.

Count Count Count Count Count.

Thunder, five miles out.

Keeping rains at bay by

rain repellent blanket fort.

Four.

Miles that is.

In time, everything flies.

And everything fades.

I don’t mind it that way.

Life’s too three.

Breath and sleet’s musical beats.

It’s in the in of all I feel.

Is it turquoise or is it teal

Two much living behind.

Living below is slow. The air

there is not like here.

I’m coughing snow and it’s

all that I hear.

Three.

Guess they don’t all pass overhead.

Guess there are some trees I can’t climb.

Guess we’re not all kids all the time.

Time four.

Hush.

image:dingbat2005

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Bodies and minds

11 Dec

Sufjan Stevens – Justice Delivers It’s Death

We’re so temporary, it feels like such a long time.

But it’s quite the contrary.

We’re only here for a handful of songs,

and then we’re pushed out into the night into the cold.

And one day we’re all going to fall apart.

We’re going to break our bodies or

lose our minds and I guess that’s fine

but I’d rather be shot in the head or die asleep in my bed.

I’m living but I ache for life.

I’m sleeping in dreams and

my job is a reel I’ve seen too many times.

When will I wake from this life that I live?

Because some day soon I’m going to come apart.

I’m going to wreck my body and

lose my mind, and I guess that’s fine.

But I’d rather get a clot in the head and die asleep in my bed.

image:Sirja Ellen

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Losing the light

3 Dec

losing

Losing the light – Marconi Union

–

We fall from trees with grace.

Wrapping the air around us.

Invisible flares escape,

beauty in the nothing.

–

With skill we harness gravity.

Port de bras, passing branches.

Entrechat to gain velocity.

we learned this ages ago.

–

Slowing to contemplate metaphase.

I watch the steps.

You watch the degage.

And we carry on.

–

Making figures in the crepuscular rays,

We bow

where our coast meets the waves

and we reach the ground.

–

image: Mike Homnick

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Past the long black land – Colleen

5 Nov

The Fretted Terrain

25 Oct

I must soon quit the scene – American Analog Set

I recall our foundation. Of course there was red. I painted them in long strokes, uplifted by tectonic knife quakes, striped, a solid evidence of early onset B layer formation. In the middle of a vast body of watercolor. There were people on those and now I see them only in my dreams. Or I in theirs. Dancing.

–

There were two.

–

I. Imagine Monument Valley. Now forty times taller. Forrest Gump is a speck. A bit of dust in your eye.

–

II. The Fretted Terrain. Think of what the mariners saw. Think vikings. It’s like that. Red, falling, crumble. The creator resembling that of a drunk architect, or a spider on LSD. Rickety.

–

A return returns a retinal shock to find the tall stack, the I. toppled and knocked, or moved or all. The water’s gone. Now bone dry, silt deposits, slightly darker, coffee rind topography. All that remains is the crooked tower known as Carroke Point.

image: munir

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Horizons Below The Earth and Not Above

12 Oct

Air – Biological

O'   underneath the steady growing backlit sawtooth leaves,

A    single history hidden beneath. Curators of the heart, 
     unpack the spark. Set it free. This one's his to solve.
     Planting puzzles(from something like the pit of an olive)

Be   strong. Be strong for me in the rain. Don't rust, tin man.
     He did. He was ferrous enough for the both of us.
     The anger. Broke his mind. Splint his old ways but hope
     they never return.

See  the sum of the parts. The perfect upbringing. Rustic.

image: keighty

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I keep them in pockets

8 Oct

Keeping time by counting pauses in our speech.

Clockwork.

Keep cool cat.

Keep catatonic.

No longer polyphonic.

Semblance of history.

Repeat.

CTL-Z

Repeat.

A mnemonic

coulda come in handy.

Yesterday.

A of a

of a

Now let me put my hands away.

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I’m climbing into the corpse of a whale

3 Oct

Lisa Hannigan – Nowhere to Go

She spoke to me of hands,

that afternoon.

And I dipped mine in sands as

we all knew.

She showed me delicacies, in depth

topography.

Perhaps, it was lost on me.

I said,

“I think mine forgot all of these

intricacies,

or they were burned off in my

infancy.”

“Look” she spoke, coaxing smoke to

speak “It wasn’t me.”

“They’re there.” pulling my hands from

sea bones.

Telescope eyes focus, begin and I

atone.

I sky scanned and saw sails that

drew me in.

Wind that need these thin threads,

that bleed.

Knead thoughts, by now she had

the read.

Impede. She cannot know about

The Seed.

image: Unidentified photographer

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Shudder Fotter

24 Sep

Sparklehorse – Return to Me

I walked, and ghosts awoke me.

So very high a bridge beneath

my feet.

A man who jumped before

paused.

A girl engraving light

on slides behind glass.

They see the same sight.

They hear a similar score.

But different tones of thunder and brass.

A moment before.

Equivocal and opposite,

God’s Grandeur and the loss of it.

Open mechanical and golden gates.

First opened for the descent

four days late.

image: Curtis Gregory Perry

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Nobody else even knows you exist

18 Sep

M83 – Facing That

Yes, yes, it’s true, I am your only friend, nobody else even knows you exist. They will. And it will be the greatest day in the history of mankind.

Light letting fog pale blue and lavender hues reach my eyes and I comprehend with cones. A world too beautiful. I see plains before the time of names, before signs and invisible lines I went and vanquished.

On the tip of the sky, I know what I’ve got.

I left coffee rings on everything.

Where did these elbows grow?
–

image: Giant Ginko

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