1. |
Pentagram Ring
02:38
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Who haunts you? Like a sidewalk chalk silhouette. Like a breeze snatched cigarette out of a summer window. Well, who haunts you again? Maybe your exes or some sexless ghost? A creeping coastline of lights leading you home. Well I can’t tell time much of anything at all except for ‘you’re confusing and I don’t know what you stand for’. Who is wanting to be wanted, too? I crossed off you with black and blue. Well, “once you weaken once that’s it, you’re done for.” So open up a drug store? Some blood meridian of a frontier. I can’t sleep. Who haunts you? Like a yard sale pentagram ring. Like a Danielewski minotaur king in Dusk’s bedroom, indigo. Who haunts you, again? Maybe a broken razor’s flash-backed edge: a blurred drive to buy cigarettes for your bedside comfort.
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2. |
Crowsnest
03:07
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This one’s about an editor with dead metaphor magnetic ears//sparks in your eyes and faces in tar. There’s no sympathetic magic: no nebulous zigzagged spectral antacid//for redacted eyes of gold. Everything is a yes or no question. She cooked up some crowsnest spied borrowed brand new plans for tonight. One fire burns out another; youth is a scam. I told you ‘bout the sympathetic magic. The moon’s pull ritual, killer whale pod ascension. Whispered fist and screaming heart. I’ve actually thrown lyrics into the ocean not sure what I was hoping would happen. A light clicks on: a long dead luminary. A graveyard shift in your gradeschool library. These hallways always make me dream of ’96 Schoolastic halloween.
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3. |
Dark Lies the Island
01:50
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Dark lies the island while she lingers like a Eugenides heroine out on her porch I’d imagine. We clear-cut the Lonetrees and wove parental mal-ease in an American Spirit breeze. No time for me, no time for anyone. Dark lies the island while I sail off like an Easton-Ellis villain, out on the stern looking back at a clear-cut near Ganges. To move through everywhere without tripping on anything: a clean-house of conscience under the Sea King’s bastard wing.
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4. |
Laceless
04:03
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She’s laceless: they took away her shoestrings. Watch her aimlessly ringing in the new days so checked out of here with greasy hair in her eyes, blank distant stare. She’s sleepless, shoved her sheets aside. Moonlight bathes her, can’t sleep with open eyes and a knuckle-lock, knee-gripping the headbashed pillow’s unwilling. I haven’t been as good of a friend as I needed to be. New romance or neuromancy? The fault lies in the fault lines of your laugh lines. Like an ill-advised joke that just hangs like a ghost note. If I’m a closed-eye shaped canoe, then I’m not a coal baron but I’ll blacken things for you. All my questions sound like jokes. Is life worth living? Can I bum a smoke? T/y
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5. |
Blackberry Landing
04:09
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With all that out there out of the way, I strung together a tie-dyed shirt ladder for an apartment escape. But it’s the knots you don’t tie that really set the stage for a scramble down the building side in a side-sheet slanted howling gale. I guess, I mean, what’s the message? I’m messing up the only passage that you put to mind: It’s a heart. Your heart. That’s a start. With all that out there out of the way, I jumped down the last story and landed in blackberries and started off again. Bet she’s the pirate king of parking lots but my keys are on her table, thankfully unlabeled and they’re drowning in peach schnapps. I guess I mean I’m sorry and I hope you fell asleep and that you cleaned up in the morning before anyone sees my keys and all of our mystery bruises.
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6. |
Passwords
03:14
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Left your back door and spotted by your tail. In a black car to your dive bar, they followed. But the ‘they’ in this case was ominous and vague. Who’d you cross this time? With a bad cheque or a kidnapping? How old were you when you knew you’d never be more than a number? Standing in line again with your displacement punch-card almost filled in. What you’ve been writing about/who you’ve been talking to, all of the passwords and maps you drew. Backed the wrong horse and synchronized your losses. In a green car to a sandbar, deserted. But the waves in this bay, well they granted you another day. Flagged a ferry down, now you’ve gone red with your request.
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7. |
Shortcut to the Moon
03:30
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The story that I sent to you might be getting published soon. The one with the roadtrip? And the brother falling for his brother’s lover. The pay’s not great but I get a free copy of their zine. I might order extra ones, I think that’s how they make their money. Nobody knows how much I lie. When did I lose track, lose track of my mind? Why can’t I take good news in stride? When did I lose track, lose track of my life? All that’s on hold for now. I think they think I ripped it off from some Chicago woman. I’d never heard her name before. But the letter they sent back, outlined overlapping parts in red. We wrote the same book, word for word and line by line.
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