1. |
Hemlock
02:16
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No I don't owe you a consequence for the things I said
To another landscape to another set
If I could take the carpet and put it against my skin
It would glow a flag of ivy a hemlock bluff
But it's not okay that way and I didn't ask you
To find a body
To find some promise that I left with you
If I could take all my words and set them free
I would worry they would all chase after me
A sunny day outside but I'm sitting on a crowded beach
And it's okay to rewrite my lines
And it's okay to miss old friends sometimes
But if you want to I'll throw it away for you
But if you want to I'll throw it away for you
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2. |
Stepped On
02:02
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My friends are always moving away and getting lost
And I don't know if I mean anything to anybody
On the porch I almost crushed an ant under my left foot
I was shaken by something stirring inside of me
If I was that small I would not want to be
Stretched out by a human mountain
Stretched out to infinity
Can we go back to your place I'm not feeling tired
We can drink wine or hold hands or just talk until we're bored
Look at the city street it's a live wire
You can meet someone or get lost or just fall in love
I never want to hurt these living things between my fingers
And the evening casts shadows through the tall buildings stare
Let the ant run through the cracks
I think it's wiser
If you kill something before it's lived you're sleeping through glass
All the people that leave me have a deep down fire
And they want to burn it through the night
I can't blame them that much.
Please don't step on me
Just let me be
And I think maybe I like you
And I think maybe I like you
We set out sunflowers next to the grave garden
Of caterpillars and cars
Crushed under foot
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3. |
Hospice
03:05
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You missed the first time I tried to tell you
All the things that I forgot when I kissed you
I think I mumbled about stealing an angel off the shelf
Putting it in my coat and letting the hospice heal itself
Like a worm I was split at both sides
Blind and growling into two seperate little minds
There’s one for holding onto the blue streetlights
As my Dad drove me in ritual to her bedside
And one for breaking the stem of your laugh
Putting it in the space between my halves
I don’t know if I can be
Put back in any way
The small chapel next to the room
where I said goodbye to you
A worm split in two
A worm split in two
I just want to hear you
I just want to hear you
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4. |
Mother Moth
03:20
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If I die and there is a heaven
And it is eternal pleasure,
Is it pleasure at all,
Or would I be trapped in a stagnant good,
For eternity,
Withering,
A moth at a lightbulb for an endless night,
Like the one where I thought the mirror might flip,
And Megan slept near me,
Separated by pillows,
As if objects can separate two bodies,
But I don’t know
Better than that,
Like the moths that circle again and again,
Wondering when their small sun will open up,
And give new eyes,
Like I circle around some dusty memory,
Of you
On the floor,
My cracks are molting in their larval conclusion,
Gripping my hand faded toward the sun,
With the imaginary confidence,
Of me feeling new lips,
And right now,
The damn is broken
Coming back and hoping with my rigid wings,
That I will find something new,
A prize to hold on too,
But if I don’t
Then I am a moth,
Fluttering
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5. |
Compost
03:24
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At the front of the room I got ready to bury my words to you
In with the guests who had come to mourn
Ithaca looks pretty in the summer but you were born down
The road from their in the spring
Peeling back the cellophane from a fresh grapefruit
And breaking it’s gold skin against thumb
Leave it on the ground for fruit flies and millipedes
You told me that every living thing needs some love
You’re always there in the bug garden of my sleeping
Always there in the humming of the moths
I push that urn away in my closet, I don’t want to
Think that life would bottle you up in anything that small
Put the glass over the spider do not injure it you let it
Out the back door over the garden wall
What was it you said on the thursday outside of the house
When you told me about what was in you
Bad roots spreading through the body
And if they all get torn out it you will get torn out to
You’re always there in the bug garden of my sleeping
Always there in the humming of the moths
You’re always there in the bug garden of my sleeping
Always there in the humming of the moths
Orange light from the window on Kathryn St. where you
Put the pink fruit slices into your soft hand
Muted brown wood my young eyes on you a symphony
You’ll always be, the one who taught me to understand
You won’t just be compost
No one will just be compost
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