1. |
Respond to Our Silence
05:30
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From a glacier up above
The water trickles downward
And nurses tiny flowers on the hills
They drink its cold
For a moment they unfurl
and stretch their leaves
But soon enough they wither and their petals
Float downstream
(chorus)
On weary nights
And tired days
We wander onward without maps
And we swim in sand
and we drown in clay
And eat our fill of rubble
And we write to you
On tattered sheets
With ink that fades on contact
And we wait alone
So patiently
For you to respond to our silence
All the miracles we see
Blind us with banality
All the whispered prayers we sweep from under tables
Spin like dust motes in the sun
And the wishes made with tight shut eyes
Now gone replaced with sleep
While up above the planets grind
Like the teeth inside my head
(talking)
Come on in I've almost finished the border
Pieces come
Easy go
You can see I like puzzles
Do you like puzzles?
I like answers
Have a seat we can kill time forever
(chorus)
On weary nights
And tired days
We wander onward without maps
And we swim in sand
and we drown in clay
And eat our fill of rubble
And we write to you
On tattered sheets
With ink that fades on contact
And we wait alone
So patiently
For you to respond to our silence
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2. |
A Skyless Cloud
04:23
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A widow's heart is missing
As she stares at her feet
While a baby cries with no sound
And a seagull screams into a skyless cloud
(talking)
Hello there
Lie down
Fold your hand across your chest
We'll begin soon
You may feel warm
Just hold still
We will help you
We will make you well
After all's forgiven
And your body dust
And your charity revealed
All the angels sing into a lightless sun
(talking)
We're already done
You did so well
It wasn't that bad
Just a little noise
We'll let your doctor know
He will call you
So don't worry now
You must know we care
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3. |
With the Weeds
03:58
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With the weeds in the field
With the sand on the shore
With the foam on the waves
With the light through the door
Their feet leave no stain
Their hands leave no heat
Their eyes see no stars
Their lips do not speak
With the dog on the roof
With the fish on the dirt
With the snake on the road
With the tears and the hurt
Their words make no sense
Their lies give no peace
Leave their empty embrace
Like a dove I'm released
With the spoon on the floor
With the book in the trash
With the smudge on the mirror
With the flavor of ash
They turn from the sun
They hide from the breeze
The trip on the stones
I stand firm they retreat
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4. |
Arrow, Find Home
04:39
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Arrow
Find home
Halo
Blind Soul
Broke bone
Grow slow
Minnow
Find shoal
My tune
Your ruin
High noon
Full moon
Leave soon
Bent spoon
Your tune
My ruin
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5. |
The Sound
03:32
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He stumbles through the muddy field, hair matted and caked in browns and reds, his right hand bleeding, clenching and releasing in a nervous random pulse. He sheds the remains of his selfhood as it trails behind him like thin, black thread unraveling from a spool. The timbre of his heartbeat betrays just how dry, how hollow, his being had become. He arrives at the fence. Looking first left and then right, he throws a leg over the wire while holding onto the crown of the damp decaying post. He makes half a turn as he swings his left leg over to follow his right, but snags his pants on a thin rusted nail. The fabric tears with a brief proclamation. Just above and inside his knee a new cut appears. Once he would have yelped as the metal gouged his skin. In another lifetime he would have returned to the house, gone up to the bathroom, all slate and silver, its skylight ushering in the sharp gray light, and tended to his pain. He would have dabbed his wound with a wet cloth, washed it carefully with soap while wincing slightly, then applied gauze under white elastic tape. Today - the wound issues blood unacknowledged.
The field turns to rock as he begins his climb. A small crimson bird hops before him on the rocks and blurs as it shakes its head. Always a few rocks ahead of him, the bird stretches its neck and inclines its beak with unknown meaning. The man is tired but does not pause. He continues to climb, the small bird understanding and showing the way. With a short blast of its wings the bird crests the ledge and disappears. The man follows.
He's on a plateau devoid of rocks and trees, of a moderate size and nearly smooth. The man forces his breathing to slow so he can hear. Praying he isn't too late, he wonders, which direction will it come from? Will it emerge from a gap between clouds? A resonance rising up through his feet? Or would the sound simply wrap him like a shroud, tight and complete, eliminating will? His breathing now quiet he perceives the mild breeze, he listens to the soft tap as blood falls in droplets from his right middle finger. And then - he stops his breath completely, mouth hanging open, his arms lifting slowly from his sides, his eyelids shut and his cheeks quivering, he's amazed and overwhelmed. The sound the sound the sound the sound descends upon him and pushes his bones into the dirt, collapses his skull, crushes his brain, his mind, his thoughts - his flatness ever growing, a spreading shadow upon the earth.
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6. |
Moments
05:57
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Sang so Sonorous in 1999
Tried to find myself but couldn't find the time
New millennium arrived I went away
Chased myself across Ohio
I got lost while looking for
An open envelope inside an unlocked door
Didn't think to knock I didn't know my soul
Was waiting there upon the stair
Time goes by but doesn't stay
Moments slide like ice and carry life away
Just a minute here I think I've got a grip
But I can't hold
I let go
So soon forgetting what I've gained
I made a mark but then it curled down the drain
I've been wrong before but never quite like this
I see my bones beneath my skin
Here we are the sunlight bakes
The rays illuminate the wrinkles on your face
So many years and so many sighs
But through the tears we got it right
I cannot help but laugh at this
Sniffing daffodils but really smelling piss
In this chair I think I'll hang on
Too late
Too late
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7. |
I'll Miss You When
05:02
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Cadence call in the cold and calm
Bronzing skin in the blazing balm
Prickled flesh in the sighing woods at midnight
Dripping hair in a moonlit swim
Warming hands at a fire's rim
Taste of grass on the tongue on a hazy Saturday
Smell of laundry in the warming air
Kittens playing without a care
Pollywogs darting in the pond
I'm gonna miss you when your gone
Lemonade in the park at noon
Walking whistling a nameless tune
black-eyed Susans reaching for the sun
I'm gonna miss you when your gone
Barking dogs bringing down the day
Sound of wind in a driving rain
Wet smell of steaming summer sidewalks
Taking naps in a backyard breeze
Turning over with more time to sleep
Taste of water from a hillside spring exploring
Yellow leaves twirling all around
Spotted apples falling to the ground
Purple skies as the day winds down
I'm gonna miss you when your gone
Snowflakes dancing in a bracing wind
Pink patches forming on my skin
White clouds in the cold of night
I'm gonna miss you when your gone
Smell of laundry in the warming air
Kittens playing without a care
Pollywogs darting in the pond
I'm gonna miss you when your gone
Lemonade in the park at noon
Walking whistling a nameless tune
black-eyed Susans reaching for the sun
I'm gonna miss you when your gone
Yellow leaves twirling all around
Spotted apples falling to the ground
Purple skies as the day winds down
I'm gonna miss you when your gone
Snowflakes dancing in a bracing wind
Pink patches forming on my skin
White clouds in the cold of night
Will you miss me when I'm gone?
Will you miss me when I'm gone?
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8. |
The Center of a Star
07:15
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Where I grew up we had an apple orchard. Just five trees but they were large and old and 3 of the 5 were good for climbing. In spring the branches grew thick with white blossoms reflecting across seasons the snows they held in winter. Some years we got apples. After we collected all we wanted, the remaining apples, too blemished or now hosting worms, would fall and turn brown and soft on the ground. Yellow jackets and groundhogs scavenged what they could, but still there were dozens that needed to be cast into the adjacent field. I wore my dads heavy work gloves so I wouldn't get stung when picking up and throwing the the fruit. As the apples rotted they began to ferment and the yellow jackets seemed to fly drunk after feeding. Leaning over to pick up the fruit made me dizzy sometimes, and if I stood too quickly the yard would for a second seem to swim. I'd wait a few seconds and then bend back down, shuffling along throwing the apples sidearm across my body. One year I decided to kick them instead of picking them up. I'd start farthest from the field and work my way forward going back and forth in rows across the lawn. The apples would frequently burst as I kicked them and my shoes got sticky and smelled like cider.
Morning cartoons bleeding into noon
Pick up your toys and clean your room
Have a bowl a soup and then load the car
Nowhere to go but the center of a star
When I was 9 my father put a wooden pallet in the crook of my favorite tree. Using scrap wood from behind our shed I nailed walls to the sides of the platform. There were openings in the walls so I could see out into the yard while remaining safely hidden. I had a plastic yellow pail on a length of clothesline which I could raise and lower from inside the treehouse, transporting items back and forth. One day I filled the pail with about a half dozen apples. I climbed up and into the treehouse and took hold of the end of the rope. I pulled the the bucket up and into my fort. When I looked into the bucket the apples were gone, though the bucket's weight declared them still present. Looking inside and seeing nothing, I tilted and shook the bucket - and heard and felt the apples roll. Starting to panic I tipped the bucket upside down and scooted away from the half-present things. I cautiously approached and then lifted the pail. I looked inside the now feather weight bucket. I shook it but heard no noise and felt no motion. I heard my mother calling me in for lunch.
I didn't tell anyone what I had seen, but ate quickly and ran back out to the treehouse and climbed up inside. I repeated the sequence from the morning but nothing unusual recurred.
It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen, and as the years roll on I question if it ever happened at all.
Morning cartoons bleeding into noon
Pick up your toys and clean your room
Have a bowl a soup and then load the car
Nowhere to go but the center of a star
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