Orcas – Carrion
Guess it’s that feeling in the night.
Guessing it’s a certain hue.
Rusty memories,
A language of the eyes.
Eyes of flowers, every color of
every sky.
Tapered
in
her
wake.
I
wander
every
hellish dream
silently.
Usually.
image: goto10
Tag Archives: Reflections
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
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
11
Sep
Radiohead – Lotus Flower
I’ve been tracking my brain for quite some time now, following it, watching its every move. It is unsuspecting, and I take it for all it’s worth. Every time it takes a sharp turn, I am there, following, mimicking its every move. It is all I need. I followed it to a small shop down some twisted alleys, watched it as it talked to the shop owner for a few minutes. It emerged from the shop a few minutes later, carrying a small little ditty all wrapped in brown paper, tied with old timey twine. It proceeded to walk up the street against the setting sun. I took cover behind boxes of furniture and hot dog carts. I gain on it, I can see the details in the package, the paper slightly waken, white cracks show in the folds. I snatch the package and run. I run faster than the shouts can travel. I duck into alley after alley, and finally I am safe. I hold the package in my hands.
image:mugley
Time is falling to the floor
16 Aug
Devandra Banhart – I Love That Man
I’ve got all my drawings all hung up on the wall opposing my front door, that every time I enter I’m greeted with a large armful of time past spent. One or two drawings fall off over and over, despite the amounts of duct tape I use. I’ve put them back up at least six times.
One day when I die will I erase the world?
Or will I keep it until I rot away, one city at a time?
What will be the last thing to go?
The thing I loved the most?
The time I ate indifferent toast?
What will the flames or worms eat last?
The heart of flesh or the ring of brass?
I found my box of pins today what a thought.
image: Gilderic
I
11 Aug
Great Lake Swimmers – Passenger Song
don’t know my hands,
the look, the feel of the skin
all buried in the sand
I don’t know where it starts and I begin.
The scariest part of realizing that you don’t like the things you used to, and that you are different from when you were a child is the fact that you didn’t seemingly choose this path you’re on, which means you have no idea where you will be farther down the line. Passing through dark tunnels, and only blind memories behind.
It’s impossible to tell anyone what you really mean,
And I’ve never been exactly as I seem.
All the ideas I write before I go to sleep,
are exactly what I dream,
but with more sheep.
I loved the things I couldn’t see
12 Jul
Black Moth Super Rainbow – Untitled Roadside Demo
and you only loved the things you could hold in your hand.
But I cut my fingers today, and couldn’t hold anything real well.
You told me about your children and what they should be.
You could pass on the torch, but don’t give it to me.
because you know,
my fingers.
image: John “K”
how dare
27 Jun
American Analog Set – Born On The Cusp (demo)
How dare I write about love. Still new to this world in the eyes of knotted woods. “Every child begins the world again,” and there are tread paths to follow. My eyes have seen some sunlit canopies, and I have seen stars through the leaves, and they have lighted my way in many a dark, unexplored night. I’ve seen deep inky caves, and crisp mornings in corn stalk plots, but the eyes of sewing needles have seen what I have not. Sewing needles not complicated, not bogged down or spiral eyed, a simple needle that’s hard to find.
image: JonathanCohen, colon+right.bracket
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