1. |
Prescription Overdose
04:37
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I take a pill for disaster relief,
8-ball for an eye, hurricane cyclops…
Needle-point a thousand miles wide…
This prescription is nothing more than
words on paper, eyelashes floating in milk…
My bicycle begins to grow
Dali’s moustache for handlebars—
flowers to pick at the finish line…
Along sidewalks, pigeons without wings
spread under ice, keeping wrong eggs warm…
Under turtle-shell umbrellas we dance
while our burning homes
race pills to empty bottles…
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2. |
Galaxies
03:28
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I’m in orbit around you, afraid of words that you might say.
When reaching for a star, there’s a long way to fall…
I feel you over me, beneath you I remain
when our galaxies collide into darkness…
Stars in our eyes are born with every dying word.
The moon suspended over me as I reach for your hand…
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3. |
Blush
04:02
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Every word I untie a crossword shoelace,
replacement therapy, still my tongue in knots…
Can’t think of anything to say, I don’t want to speak…
I just want to feel the stars blush when the sky has burned
away… These years will belong to the moon.
Those nice-guy words whose busted pipe leaks in my ear…
Burning bush that blinks when it lies,
sit at the intersection, silent, legs crossed,
eyes closed like a smoking monk…
Away, these years will belong to the moon.
Those night-sky words, whose busted pipe leaks in my ear…
It’s fitting that fossil fuels deplete along with our atmosphere.
Then, we’ll just have to think of a place to bury all the dead cars…
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4. |
Crucified Scarecrow
04:36
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Useless as a revolving doorknob,
I turn to more fulfilling endeavors
like balancing a measuring cup
brimming with formaldehyde on my nose…
Ice cube eyes are dissolving under my tongue…
Even myself over an erection,
limbs like helicopter blades spinning
under a ceiling fan, or unrolling a rattlesnake
along the length of a casino floor…
Its ice-cube eyes dissolving under my tongue…
But, seeing as it’s claustrophobic enough
without slithering into the fireplace
I pilot a cryogenic carpet, my arms and legs
thawing out in all directions
like da Vinci sketching
a crucified scarecrow, voodoo doll
pin-cushioned to the illusion
of animation’s cross inverted…
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5. |
Novocain Tree
04:37
|
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The night is calling me
to lose myself in its fate…
A wish, never made,
to drown myself in the dark…
I hear my name echoing
within the trees
the deeper I run into
the darkness ahead…
A pale full moon, all I have
is memories of you.
I’ve made that wish a thousand times,
never came true…
The stars above me lead me to this lake.
I’ve tried to live your lie…
I’ll drown but not in you
any longer…
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6. |
||||
As butterfly approached me,
fearless words on full moon night…
How long can they look into your eyes
without crawling back to explanation?
Cascade surrounds my body,
casts my reflection…
Rapture, circus of thoughts
of hugs and kisses,
last chance to be me…
Still I find me talking to myself,
isolated dreams of a falling sky…
To her I offered thoughts of rapture—
the tears of angels lull me sleep…
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7. |
Umbilical Patchcord
03:07
|
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I silently tip-toe
away from the platform.
You’ve invented the clouds,
drawn up the sky’s blueprints…
Tight-roping my own flat line
I try not looking down
at the nurse bending over
to pull the plug—
she cuts my second umbilical
patch cord…
What continents surround
has a wet shadow…
…the horizon whose smoke stacks are
animated sculptures of ours lungs
where we’d use lit cigarettes for snorkels…
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8. |
Predicting Memories
06:17
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I gather up the hills
and call to tell you about it
hoping to hear the telephone in your voice
tap against your teeth, smear the ashes
of your lips on my mouth…
Dusting each breath for someone else’s
fingerprints while clouds lung the sky—
a world healing in heaves, I hang up
with just enough light for shadows,
as if they need sun…
Without it they’re just plants with skin for soil.
Here, one flowers from mine across the room.
Her drinking a glass of water helps me breathe…
We’re all bridges under crossing kisses,
our throats the crumbling supports
when we finally remember the number
and no one answers…
Your darkest pulse runs the love from my skin
with lips that unwind toward the motion of sleep…
I can hear commas seeping between your teeth…
Too far away to exist, we touch almost like knives—
this helps to heal the ghosts of oceans
we hear and want to believe in…
This is just a simple mechanism—I leave the room
without time to return while predicting memories…
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