1. |
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|
where has the river spat me out?
a temple full of gods i never knew
and one looks exactly like you:
a palette full of dew-
-what does your painting represent?
your palette washed in black-holed text
destroy that white wall
we'll build it back again
where has this boat-ride drawn me out?
a shrine to the strangers i never knew
and they all look exactly like you
how do i escape repetition?
how do i reclaim my life?
destroy this county
and build it back again
but what does your state represent?
your despot washed in black-holed text
destroy this country
we'll build it back again
where has this life ended up?
my palace awash
colour dried up
destroy my body
and don't bring it back again
|
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2. |
The Charade
02:45
|
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|
you came back from the forest today
you were about eight hours this time,
did anything go wrong?
let me set you down
what would you like?
i'd make anything for us
and try again tomorrow
and wait for the signal:
one word, two syllables
can i tell you something?
i don't think i'm alive until you come home
so tomorrow i'll stay here and find a better place to hide
|
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3. |
Red-Necked Phalarope
03:19
|
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4. |
Greenshank
08:38
|
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|
the lake feels so shallow but we
dip our feet into the point of drowning
and your face turns to me and speaks:
before we leave it gives me all your calumny
this is the point where we see it all before us
encased in mythic tales
of torture and grace
you know, it's funny how we met
and in the blackness of this waterbed
i still search your name
i still
lie still
|
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5. |
Lapwing Suite
05:39
|
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|
- "weaver's way" -
i've been wasting my time
watching my breath recess into my hands
and whispered into my head,
dreams of pitched-up voices
release the tension trembling there,
and barrelling down my shoulders:
twirls of regal hair
i've been reclaiming my time
among the grasses
where you tread
the fauna never looks me in the eye;
my dress can't be identified
ravage this glade and you'll-
- "striate me" -
-find
that i move back and forth across a line
- "mirrorstage" -
and i walk upon the grass
i'm not found in the mirror
so i'll weep upon its glass
i need you to identify me
so i can watch my breath become your hands
|
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6. |
Redshank
03:24
|
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|
way down past the shore
underneath all the reeds
there's a disused heap of flesh
i once thought could be for me:
they're away with all apologies
and blissful death by the sea.
and buried away
is a geocache for each one of those days
spent hiding away this male hell.
o! to reach beyond the face,
and rearrange the days,
and tie them up in lace;
organised in girly ways,
not a shoestring out of place
craft a geology of me:
my new hand-eroded sedimentary body.
craft a biology of me:
brush off that heap of flesh
and stitch her onto me
|
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7. |
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8. |
The Hiss
05:05
|
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|
who decides which language you communicate in?
and how do i place it in my mouth and consecrate it?
until then i'll practice into my mirrorpane
and write into the condensation gifts to your name
because how else could i reach you?
is this sacrosanct or just cathartic?
but i miss the warmth in every room you walked in
and wherever you are
i swear to god i'll be there
i'll be right here
i swear to god i'm here
i'll be right here
recording all my prayers
into the abyss:
there's no sound played back,
except for the hiss
so was the tone of your voice
ever real
or just a sirensong?
and could a capture
ever have sounded so-
the tone of your voice
quickened my lungs
it was a hymnal song
and could a face ever have been so
beautiful?
|
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9. |
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J. Wiegold recommends:
my friend Odi's ambient project
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