1. |
Sane // the Dancer
06:48
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see,
even
when you are sitting still
you are
soaring at 100 000 000 mph
round the sun
so that everything you
happen upon follows you forever in an
endless chase across the cosmos
know what loves you flying & what loves you chained
know what loves you manic, & what loving loves you
sane
sane
sane
see, we are never far apart
& coming home to you is
same as it is
same as it was
same as it always will be
know what loves you dancing & what loves you tamed
know what love subdues you & what loving loves you
strange
strange
strange
strange
i am never far away,
spinning, chasing through the day...
names upon the silver screen
supermodels on a magazine
you are every summer sweet
lilac purple, jasmine green
the earth it stirs & we turn & we turn
you are every voice picking up all my phone calls
when it rings & we sing & we sing
“would you be my dancer, catch my trust falls?”
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2. |
**-*
07:06
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at his desk, he fixes his tie
mutes the daily call from his wife
talking about the house chores,
thinking about a divorce...
at her desk, she twirls at her braids
noticing that some of his greys had started to show
fruit roll-ups for the girls with skirts rolled up for the boys
they’re all cheating on tests
& stuffing kleenex ‘tween their breasts
& she is flying but it feels wrong
when his gaze would linger a little too long
as he explained why they best stay a secret
he said “they wouldn't understand us
they wouldn't even know where to begin
their hearts could never fathom
our unrivaled enormity of love”
august afternoons are liquid
she tells time from passing traffic
sounds that would ebb & flow
& in his arms rejection flatters
& being awkward doesnt matter
nightly scenes she blithely dreams, so real it seems
but witnessed by the sun, she’s clouded
a hurried attempt to soothe her doubts
they both agreed it’s love
& "love is not time’s fool"
they wouldn't understand us!
“it won't be weird in 20 years” he said
but if his words were a donation,
why is she still knee deep in debt?
a feud fit for the operas
a tragedy learned from the requiems
& an optimism from god knows where
& he'll probably soon start losing all his hair
at least in the places he wants them
& she'll probably start asking:
"was it still really wrong to love me if i loved him back?”
while the prying eyes of the world don’t cut them any slack
cause you know they wouldn’t understand
her still mother asks after him
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3. |
& Then
05:46
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4. |
Losing // the Dancer II
08:00
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i keep waiting i’ve been waiting
for a lifetime to decide
what of myself i can love enough to call mine
i sweat my entire self into vinaigrette puddles, bubbles nothing left i
i, i try! i, i—
we can walk
beside the train tracks
& i
can wait a little longer
i can talk about the things to make u feel better (much better!)
look there, a sparrow! yellow white yarrow!
you can give me something i can talk about
i can keep on talking
until the alphabet runs out
i can keep on talking
wishing we could stay this way
wishing i had more to say
until every tiny little star far up
i can keep talking
til every tiny little lie i told
i can keep talking
falls down like a feather gently in your palm
i’ll dance to keep my head above the water
i’ll dance to keep this love in me alive
i’ll dance to see the grace in falling over
i’ll dance to teach my loving to suffice
this endless winter covers me with splinters
i’ll let myself know it’s a war we fight
years end though giving can be so unkind
even if i feel like im alright
wishing to float off with the glowing cinders
see the maze unwind!
i am ugly! i am holy! i am porous coral!
i am ugly & that is holy, that is how i feel
it’s is all i know to be true
leaving my toothbrush in the hotel
losing my luggage at the airport
losing my breath trying to catch up
losing my brain at this game
cause i can’t win your heart
so i’ve lost my name
losing my glasses when they’re on face
losing my confidence when the things i misplace
seem so easy, it’s easy
it’s so easy to forget that this is hard
that we’re all misplaced from the start
it’s not the first time im going away
when it’s you who is leaving
what do i look like to you when
i’m sinking away into a camomile sky?
i dance
i am
i breathe
i can
i jump
i stir
i fall
i wait
i keep
i lose
i run
i fly
i hear
i sneeze
i try
i—
don’t you know i’m no good for you?
don’t you know
don’t you know
don’t you showed you won’t
but don’t you know you
where you got to go? i know i
don’t try hard enough but enough
is enough is enough is
even now it still somehow it shows
i know
i know
i know
i
i
i
i
i
i
i
i
i
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5. |
Saint
10:59
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santa maria, please don’t be mad
i’ve done some things i shouldn't have
it's not the first time i left dishes in the sink
or showed up to work smelling like last nights drinks
i forgot to pay the waitress & didn't turn around
& when asked for words of comfort i couldn't make a sound
i quit after 10 minutes of any slightly laborious task
& lied about last evening's plans when my mother asked
& i told him that i loved him when i shouldn’t have
& i know i shouldn’t go around chasing what i shouldn’t have
what i shouldn't have
your flames, though soft, scorches the moth beguiled by the light
ultra-violence! you & i dance wild in the night
your tunes, teeth, whistles, so artfully chisel
this fledgling’s wings some marrow, some gristle
to feed the tree that nests our altricial’s
to drown the soil that mothers our thistles
yet simple me still sings these god awful things
sacred, fox-tailed, you’re still tuning my rusted strings!
i’ll bet you do have wings
i’ll bet you do have wings
how else could you carry all these things?
for to take your being as fact
one might think me superstitious
this good has only ever been fictitious
but i have seen your arrows
its augured course slowly narrows
so still i say “raise the chalice”
i love you & i mean’t no malice
with every thread you sow my seams
with every way you make me feel
dreams are real, dreams are real
but don't belong in reality
hold my hand with your hand
we don't belong in reality
he claims to like the way i arrange my clothes all over the floor
& when i say i’m sorry he simply asks “what for?”
never is he angered when i practice while he naps
(& always saves me a bite of his curry chick pea wrap)
he calls his parents often & goes home when he can
he’s always early & doesn’t ever cancel on our plans
o, our plans...
saint, how lonely my unholy trinity!
though timid my prayer in it is there still divinity?
such sounds i found in the din of the crowd
seem to speak aloud:
“at what cost is divinity?”
a joke to him, a pome to me
could you still be proud of me?
soon the magpie will trumpet a sky shared by sun & moon
a brief allowance for both polarities to be true
for aren’t there more stars than the naked eye from here can see?
more truths than this thrusted upon me
the earth & the star are they best not collided
having destroyed cities & dinosaurs & i’m sure many other things?
albeit both made of dust & fire & light & life are they safer divided?
santa maria, your brilliant walls,
is there a place within?
sheltered by the clouds of seraphim
the infidels lay free of fear
& we are at home here
saint, witness me swinging my thurible
i’ve been acting awfully charitable
doling out my sighs & pouts
will you take this mouth so barely wearable?
weary but bearable, we’re face to face on a tightrope
does it get better? i hope!
cause i’ve been feeling terrible, terrible
kiss my face or pour me the veronal
esurient for a signal i climbed your spires
but the narthex is no perch for your broken lyre
or for searching the cure to your dizzying madness
so i threw my limbs up o’er the atmosphere
trying to make sense of what i’m doing here
are these shoes better stolen if they better fit your feet?
are these eyes better swollen for you’re still all i see
in everything i see?
santa maria, if you can know all i'm thinking of
santa maria, please deliver my inquiries to some god above
& with some small wave of your holy hand
perhaps you can help me finally understand
what to do about my love
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6. |
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sister dreams of paper planes
plastic boats & trinket trains
she'll board without knowing to which town she's going
whose name she won’t try to pronounce
love to watch the trees get tiny
the chimneys get few & the windows get shiny
& sigh about how everything looks prettier
from afar
sisters reflection is hollow
she gulps but her throat does not swallow
she stares down the elf she's disguised as herself
& her every gesture it follows
on a day the sky is blue
maybe may or maybe june
she'll pack away letters addressed to herself
that she’s too scared to send
on a day the sky is pink
maybe summer, maybe spring
maybe she waits on a small paper plane
as it plots its impossible landing
if distance makes poetry of stutters
& time will make canyons from gutters
i'll dream of how pretty
my worries will look where you are
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7. |
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the snow the snow
will fall will fall
the snow will fall
will wash our trail
away
& time is but
a sound from afar
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8. |
moon II: dusk, dawn
04:14
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ask the dusk & ask the dawn
why never they bother to meet no more
ask the sun: what good is light if there is never shadow?
what good is good if there is only so?
o, the sun will surely tire
let the moon spill over me
now that the sun has tired
let the moon spill over me
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9. |
moon III: sun, ocean
04:16
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a spinning song, it blows in from the balcony doors
& I am drawn to you whose infinitely flowing well
spills over everything I see
under the light of the moon
you wear the stars so well
the words we’ve gathered
weave them into a tune
how they are writ & rewritten still
do we let the sun burn on without us
or the ocean swallow us whole?
& night is limitless
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10. |
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low low & low are the clouds that have yet to form
low & with vacant eyes we wait upon a newer sky
to see the world before its time to wake itself
low low low...
it wakes again
again, i wake
again
had the skies not been so, & the birds not been vicious, perhaps we wouldn’t have been unkind, but a shut window stops not the percolation of night into your vision, that spinning song, sick song, a polyphony of jealous hearts sing my decision, low are the clouds & persistent is the tune that tap, tap, taps its fingers on your window sill & the birds could not sit still & the birds could not sit still & the birds could not sit still & the birds could not sit still
the lampposts bear witness to an empty street
the fall has left us with nothing but snow & I
was here am with you
am gone
your eyes finally open
in search of a familiar face
you won’t see me
i won’t be there
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11. |
Madam // & Now
06:31
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i’ll save the words i’ve always spent
i loved you & i love you now
perhaps not in the way we mean’t
but anyhow here now’s the outcome
madam i can’t remember
the last time we’ve both been so tired
& the velvet upholstery’s growing hold
& your touch has never felt so cold
& i know i’d best be on my way
but i’d feel less badly if i stayed
we are masters of procrastination
so let’s give in to this nostalgic sensation
where all is now & time can wait
til real life piles up on your plate
for to love a way so cumbersome’s
best digested with a shot of rumMMMMmm—
—madam i know, you’re doing your best,
to not remark on this crazy mess
i heard “erratic” as “erotic”
so i’ve stuffed all my prudence in your pockets
i’ve still eyes to spy & a nose to smell
& ears to hear your fender swell
but it’s that that my head can’t forget
so maybe it does its job too well
& sometimes i feel like giving up
cause my reason’s retired & my desire’s not brave enough
so my body becomes battle ground
for where to plant the thorned crown
cause my left side likes it rough, my right side likes it tender
my eyes want buff, while my hands want slender
my pride just wants me treated right
while my hips just want to be pushed against at night
& there’s something true
in how you lie & i cry
& we both buy it
if you’re so upright, why do
your eyes make it hard for me
to keep my self respect?
theres one pair of shoes at the door
& they belong to me
& i feel mostly good & grown up
but don’t mean i don’t miss your company
now i’ve sold my gold for this modus vivendi
if solitude’s gonna mend me
but freedom’s still a mystery
& freedom is a myth to me
even if with years we get more bitter
just like our aging taste for liquor
i see the sweetness in the end
i’ve got lots to learn til then
i just wish that you weren’t so far away
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12. |
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when i close my eyes i see
you appear in front of me
i hold your image until when
—as soon as they open—
the world comes flooding in
still atop my eyelids float
projections of your hoverin’ ghost
chalks your outline where you could be
& that is good enough for me
when i turn my head i see
a flash, a blur, an almost-dream
a more present absent i ne’er did feel
’til your shape from memory i steal
& you are almost real
your warmth, your wit, your gentle glow
kindness you never cease to show
all but your actuality
& that is good enough for me
shadows dance as cars they come and go
painting your portrait in the snow
so what if your face a little long
& they got your nose a little wrong
i’ll pass the time with scheming ways
to distract, wrestle, slow the sempiternal night
falling in between us
but never will i understand my tears
and when, and for whom, they choose to flow
i see you in the icy mile
of wintry sheets the cold’s compiled
when they part i see you start
when they thin i see you
in the water’s ripplin’
when the sunken sun westward flies
stippling yet another reddening sky
i’ll see you in the blinking lights
enough to sustain my desires
if you’re never to arrive
or if we never are to be
casting shadows in the snow
i’ll not cry as blessed i’m still
to know the light that you have shown
though there’s always a nightfall
in between us
i won’t pretend like i
can offer you a better plan
& it is good enough for me
if you’re to stay across the sea
warm & dry & somewhere far
& i can’t hurt you where you are
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