1. |
Lookout Cake
03:24
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the sunset is an ordinary thing to the edge of the ocean. your hair will get caught in the wind and dance like a spider's legs weaving a web in a shadow puppet show to know all the places shining in your window, a veiled reflection as a matter of speaking. i don't want to hurt myself from thinking too hard... if the band does what i like when i get to shore.
lookout cake, whisper filled ears- taught like an educations not needed, not any more than love is red.
the full moon is an extraordinary craze drawn by hand to the open port humming at the exclamation pointing, and all around spreading. it all started with a kiss around back, where time melted on the table and dripped down to the floor. you were the music that just walked by like you were the only song that could get me to dance inside.
lookout cake making whispers abuzz, taught like an educations not needed, not any more than love is red. lookout cake, words tickled pink- taught like an educations not needed, not any more than love is red.
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2. |
Atlas Me
03:45
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countdown to the blast. whats far enough to get away? carrying the torch to camp. the suns still up, its getting late; compliments of the river and the fire; sparks of hell-fled demons fly up to treetop dwelling gods producing fruit too heavy to hold, now rests on blades of grass growing over, growing older...
*atlas me, cartographic hand. the inner city of parades contemplative.*
how it feels from where i sit- atop my bed on a beach, going overseas with blankets for the waves; moving so slow it says "a good day!" on a page from many sheets to come. yesterday never would've believed today, the good in folks, and other fairy tales
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3. |
Seizure Skeletons
04:27
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putting on airs outside, the storm is always gonna land at night. wake up to see you're dreaming on the ride, as sure as the tide- dipped in a fountain of lightning, floating away with some in a vile, hanging by a thread on high, waiting to strike.
throwing up snakes from the valley of death, seizure skeletons; speaking in tongues with dead language breath... carry me home.
theres another bird at the door nesting in a coat on the porch. electricity lit up and passed around. one of my shadows has wondered out, getting lost like smoke in the fog. everything's a vibration from the mouth of god, saying something i don't know, the word still warm, the world hums the note 'til the band plays, take it away.
i wake up speaking the language of babies. i can't see, i'm so confused.
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4. |
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verse(s): eyes of an outlet, writhing electrically. out by the streetlight, (eyeing a lucid dream) (I am where I see). I might not beat the lion's taming, but i'll still be playing, baby
1: blue bubble blown too many kisses unlearned. I'm in the know to the outside, pinned to the eyes of a stone, through many many many a window.
2: in a parking lot, a sleepy pickup where i get lifted. My lows are drifting, carrying a door upstairs... beneath my wig... screws won't go all the way, all the way, all the way in.
**I, I have been offline assembling a dream in my eyes. Poems. Poems in the brushstrokes, understanding in the hues. Recognizing love like a song we all can sing.
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5. |
yet
04:07
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in turn, the globe, as it always has been is spinning from the same yarn, I've heard tale untying the strings for the present's unveiling, under weathered skies, orchestrated- it gets a little louder as it gets a little darker out here.
*outside voices raising the bet, saying "we made it" from making it yet, and that too goes from where I project. outside voices raising the bet.
there was a town disappeared into the woods, where theres a fire underground; feet sinking in the melted streets. what if all these roads end at the edge of the city? well, they only come back to crawl into the cemetery.
born back on unfailing feet, running on the ground musically, like air between notes fills bellows and a mouth to sing. daring as an idea getting free with a runaway feeling and theres no time to waste.
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Cue Telectro Charlotte, North Carolina
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