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Seasinks

19 Oct

Sufjan Stevens – All The Trees Of The Field Will Clap Their Hands

Every time the curtains rise,
she sings her haunting melodies.
The ground bucks up and sinks the seas,
moon pulls thin air and drops the tides.

The seasinks of green and grey,
painting dizzy headlight canopies.
Turquoise canyons crash upon their knees.
The seasinks grin a grin and say

“Goodbye to you my frivolous friend,
You breathless observer, never a participant,
I leave the rigs to their haughty chant.
Their fog horns rowdier than an elephant.”

Curtains close and I feel ill.
Shrimp and crabs softly murmuring
patiently awaiting the coming seasings
and once turbid waters stand serene and still.

image: mechkad

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For Morning’s Sake

5 Oct 

Califone - Our Kitten Sees Ghosts

For morning's sake I   drug the blinds.
Morning descends the stairs
last night's blinds above her eyes.
G'morning.
            I shrug and let sun slits slip in
                                    slump and sigh.
I sit, cigarettes lit and drug.
For night's sake cognition abandon
                                   body.
A kindness granted
                     given        currentcaliber.
Sake's shadow and someones silhouette.
Steeped in silence.

Blinded three times,
                      he, drink, and night.
Now,
morning drags up the window panes
drags and stares at west sitting winds.

image: Matthew McVickar

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Contact

22 Sep

The Field – Over The Ice

Do you feel lucky?

They seemed to say.

Tissue cameras creep

over every inch of me.

Frozen.

Foreign orbs

observe, absorb.

The eyes, the eyes, and their frightening lies.

Black and white and color dyes.

He turns away from me,

and the waves recede.

I’m only shot when I see

the whites of their eyes.

And I’m surrounded by them all.

Prying pupils

dilate

relay

roll

repeat.

I won’t let you see me see.

You see?

On and on we dawn these rituals.

Hide and seek with our peripherals.

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Drop D

19 Sep 

Mogwai - moses

Rain
  in
 a n
  empty mind grows
 a n  y
     time, nothing but a low
 a n t  e
                       allowing
       me  nothing but
                     to  sow,

             seeping out windows sewing time into my eyes
             they grow heavy and I hear flip flop footsteps
             in record repeating digging troughs silent
             bouncing off white walls.

image: drp

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Minotaur

4 Aug

Sabicas – Fantasia Inca

I. The Labyrinth

Creepy doe-eyed motherfucker light-up fawns.
Christmas Plastic strewn on crunchy lawns.
Santa’s fire belly boils crooked grins aglow
agape at Frosty’s carcass, cloaked in polypropylene.
We’re drowning rocks in blackened frozen ponds.

This is no Starry Night.
This is no Rower’s Lunch.
This is Vancouver sky,
Eridanus beams all half-bright.

Walking. Stiffened sparkle sidewalks. Night.
Talking under quiet globes of light.
Wander wonder why we got so left behind
this maze of bending buildings
ebb in shrouded spiral tight.

Now your eyes are mottled grey.
Mirrors of a solemn maze.

II. The Beast

And I saw him, in the nettle-stung blister winter morning, sun growing, peering between mazes of leafless birch branches. I saw him in the leather coat, in the street, among the houses. Maybe we’d been up all night, he and I, and it’s too early to sleep now. He stands there blowing hot-breath dragon flames, growing older with every passing day.

image: Grant MacDonald

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