1. |
"Hello Sky Harbor."
00:49
|
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2. |
"Not Ready!"
02:49
|
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3. |
"Proudhon's Galaxy"
02:22
|
|||
From equations we see
Giant spheres of radiation
The public viewing of sunsets
A distant laugh from the suited
Laissez-faire in a balanced universe
Cygnus- 50k!
Betelgeuse- 25!
Proxima- 75!
The last to be sold
Of all the sunny days
No longer free for poetry
But posted, with a price of admission
The self-regulating few
Holding the last of the unpainted
Remembering who said "Property is theft!"
And not the other way around
|
||||
4. |
"Tomorrow Is the Day!"
02:18
|
|||
Breaking in the first
Thus, the meets begin
Maybe it's all for a reason
To earn yr own time?
Eh, the eyes aren't listening
Anymore than you yrself might
Like a jester with no dance
Or maybe that's incomplete
Whatever the phrase
I'm toiling over other dreams
Whoever put this brain here
Teach it now to jump on a path
Connect it to a heart
Swim its own way
Brighten the houselights
Give it the home it wants
Or clear it all
|
||||
5. |
"1692?"
03:40
|
|||
Wanting to know it all
I guess I do
Reading every book
Pirating every note
Learning every card
Seems the season
You made that choice
Right, am I?
Well, the glass spilled in mine
The trap didn't close all the way
The sacred still intact
In form of a big sleep
Maybe the color green is the one?
Guess it wasn't
The wires eventually snapped
After two and a half counts
And no visiting time
A refusal to plead
Add more weight
|
||||
6. |
||||
The boss standing
Fucking looming miles down
The rivers all dried
The men all lying down
Thanking the sky
For what she dropped today
Singing with a familiar pain
The sideburns trimmed away
The wordless drugs
Changing style
The dirty clothes
The greenest flannel
Racing for the goodest words
Forgetting all her names
I know where she's going
I hope she's okay
|
||||
7. |
"Jinx!"
02:59
|
|||
Waking to 11
The wonders of an early start
Like the first man standing
Til the weapons hit the floor
Expecting a ballroom
Instead, given dimmed light
And grim spaces
Speaking only in Jinx
Burying one's heart
Or perhaps burn it down
Let it blow in the wind
Repeat the song of her name
|
||||
8. |
"The River Froze."
02:28
|
|||
Buying back yr tapes
Of whatever's in the brain
No clues in the heart
Only outside the face
Those words turn to fact
Cliché, but alas
Bad moon arose
In the wake of glory
Northern boy in plaid
A citizen unarmed
No one to defend
Lots of vaults to fill
A life worth living
Til 25 years
Northern boy walked down
And fell at the stairs
|
||||
9. |
"Wait, Don't Go!"
04:22
|
|||
10. |
"This One's For Apo!"
02:41
|
|||
11. |
"Generation H."
09:11
|
|||
12. |
||||
Recurrence of film
The safe of the bed
Growing stale conversely
Take this head and go!
The word alone
Getting older and older
Just like this fucking hand
Or this brain that only clogs
When the thumb barely holds
And the words no longer pour
Like the younger self
Maybe that's the dream
The left-behind
The right in front?
No, the ghost isn't
But, to give what up?
Clear that mind
Clear that head
Clear that throat
Take a swim
I don't know
Get married?
Jump on yr own train
Today!
|
Blue Mist Bands Biddeford, Maine
"If we are unable to unify the past, present, and future of the sentence, then we are similarly unable to unify the past, present, and future of our own biographical experience of life. By molding the past into visual mirages or stereotypes, we effectively abolish any practical sense of the future and of the collective project, thereby leaving the thinking of future change to sheer cataclysm." ... more
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