Mimicking Birds – On The Warm Side
Sunday night boasts
a scramble brain
and a soft voice.
We slide
the weekend wind
a comet tail
shedding skin
in the night sky.
Just say if.
I’ll drop it all and fall.
Just say if.
No, come and help me lift.
image: Chapendra
Modern Drummer – American Analog Set
The best love stories are the ones I never heard.
An advertised love hangs upon the thinnest threads,
plinks high notes and treads.
They are the wailing melody to the bass in our heads.
A drone we hear from miles away.
The undercurrent on choppy days.
Cello strings cheats strung bow.
Won’t play notes staff page says.
image: Jerry Cooke
The love I felt for you
curly hair, eyes of blue
darkened skin that certain hue
I couldn’t say
I couldn’t see
you walked right past me
forget
I couldn’t see the features in your face
A tiny piece in a larger place
You looked through me
saw instead a maple tree.
Broken by faulty eyes
and knowingly so
a mighty blow
I didn’t know
I didn’t know
crush me crush my
I
I never knew you the second time
and the first was never the same
string them all together
sew for me the line
faceless
a soft kiss with
stained lips
I opened the door
and found no core
and parting branches
I didn’t know
I didn’t know
crush me crush my
I
I watched and walked past
at last glance some girl walked fast.
Forget
Sufjan Stevens – Holland
Emerging from sleep it seems
I cannot reconcile with my lost dreams
I’ll be fine
I’ll be fine.
Walking parks and explains how he
plots loopholes in the religion he follows to the t
I don’t know why
He won’t say why
A tinge of olive all over, the world slipping from your grasp
I live in photos now, forever state of half wit faux gasp.
my girl
she keeps
me safe
in sleets
A breath of wind, a breath of life,
blew over my closed eyes,
in the end,
what will I defend?
image: angelrays
Beck – Farewell Ride
In solitude, or in the
locked eyes of a desperate song they
take me there, I’m
biking a hot day and a lonesome
run down boathouse rough road home
jut sand bank tell of fortune old as time
clock rocking the knotted rocker: grave
She sees me who I am and I came: the
future. Only memory scenes and I
am the sucker side of some cheap con
for I am not upon a bicycle nor
deep into a summer afternoon.
I see old days and I swoon
I live them a memory at each core
and choke seeds of cyanide that come
with each one. Ah, well, someday we’ll all die.
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
Sounds of Faces – Rough Untitled
Show me the life of passion.
This oyster is too large for me to see,
bunker me, hunkered down hundred years of rations
If I’m willing to join the assembly.
I apply and turn my eye to the grindiem
I carpe my paycheck at the door and
log another day in my compendium
another day dead gone dead sand
I’ll mix with more. Overreaction?
A stalling friend of mine turned sixty seven,
Some strong people don’t gain traction
Some long lives forget to leaven.
Show me the life of passion,
I want to have a calling, a mission.
image: kayschwag
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
Great Day – Four Tet Remix (Madvillain)
What are
thoughts like
before the synapse? the great divide.
many men are left
behind.
All lined up on one node.
Rows, columns, groups of men
all thoughts all thought out.
Forward, march.
Oceans, canyons, mountains, all of the
above.
Gunfire.
bodies fall strewn visceral drenched dirt or air or water
push on almost there see
see ahead the encampment flying our flag shredded by the bullet breeze
home stretch for cracked windpipes
and stained fingers nails
no coffins nailed for the dead on the field
just gone.
but
Safe on the
other
side, count them all.
Battles first of many.
Many more will
fall.
What are
thoughts like
before the synapse? the great divide.
many men are left
behind.
I think that’s how it happened, but there were probably more battles and conflicts, and now that I think about it there was probably a better reason to go where they did. How many of them were there again? Did we lose too many or did we come out of this one relativity unscathed?
I think the war has been over for some time now.
image: -scipio-
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.
acraein 