1. |
Sick Day in Bed
01:00
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A kick, a kick, a kick to the head
Like a sick day in bed
A kick, a kick, a kick to the head
Like a sick day in bed,
My steel swagger shed.
By love I am led,
A kick to the head…
A note, secret code, poem caught in the throat,
An essay pleads to be wrote.
The piece could unfreeze the latch overfroze,
But it’s a sick day at home, ain’t that a hole in the boat?
A sick day in bed, ain’t that a kick to the head?
My love, my love, on the gray shaggy rug
Gives my cold pride a tug.
My love, my love, on the gray shaggy rug
Gives my cold pride a tug up through the greasy mug...
Looking down from above on all the townships of me...
All the no-outlet streets, kids playing in the streets in vain...
Only rule of their game, some brand of shame.
A kick, a kick, a kick to the head
Like a sick day in bed…. (repeats)
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2. |
Kick to the Head
03:46
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3. |
Sweeping
03:33
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I have seen the dust
Pile up outside your bedroom door
I know I have added
A few particles, or maybe more
And I, I know that the cat
I know she won’t stop shedding, maybe never quite possibly never
But I could sweep forever
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4. |
Song of the Year
04:19
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The breeze drags all that’s near from here to far away
Sold buildings, oldest friends apart,
Or your neighbor’s things into your yard, today
Your neighbor’s belongings ain’t worth much with your conscience watching,
Your neighbor’s money could be worth a lot if it’s not…
But if it’s a matter of when it is or when it’s not,
Let the gates all lock, poems inside to rot.
If it’s a matter of when it’s not or when it is,
I’ll play lookout until the breeze drags
Nothing here, and we vote it for the song of the year.
The breeze drags an unsettling tune through the screen.
I’ve got half a mind to record it, send it off to W.B.
And I’d like to know who among them will pay for the sound they wrote?
All the dark y’all would swallow and what you won’t.
But if it’s a matter of what you will or what you won’t,
Let the gates all close, poems inside froze over.
And if it’s a matter of what you won’t or what you will,
I’ll play lookout until the breeze drags a big nothing here
And we vote it for the song of the year,
The song, the song, of the year.
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5. |
Like a Sweater Unsewn
04:04
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Step on into the lamplight,
So I can see you at your height
Let us raise the stakes, like so
Boots tenderizing flakes of snow
Of snow
She yawned, “You’re just a big ole ball of yarn,
Knit like a scarf when you’re off your guard,
Flailing catstring when you’re feeling far.”
So step on into the lamplight,
So I can see you at your height
Let us raise the stakes, like so
Boots tenderizing flakes of snow
Of snow
They rolled themselves far past where the bulb beam glows
One million miles, to where pine needles float
And snow dances like a sweater unsewn
Like a sweater unsewn
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6. |
Like a Fish
03:51
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I’d swim on down, like a drunken fish, down
If you’ve got any time, come and drink up some of mine
He said, “Here’s something that I used to refuse to do:
My cold-pressed solitude, squeezed and mixed into a cocktail
Just for you and me.”
To drink on down, like catfish, down
If you’ve got any time, come and drink up some of mine
She said, “Here’s something that I used to pretend not to see:
Look at all the walls collapsing on me, my bones with the rafters from above
Being pulled down into some current of love.”
But I’d swim on down, like a trout fish down,
If you’ve got anytime, come and drink up some of mine
(Bum bum bum, I’ll swim on down, bum bum bum)
I’ll swim on down, like a drunken fish, down down
If you’ve got any time, come and drink up all of mine.
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7. |
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Who is that’s come and robbed you blind, dude?
And your fine-tuned schedule is lost beyond
Sleep and food.
Your devotion to constant motion and pain stakin’
Have formed a crib, in which you lay in,
And the kind voice saying:
“Well, you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into this time”
(Vines cover the sixes and nines, now there’s no time!
Fold those hands that do hold, a glove from above!)
All wrapped in the cool claws of love.
“Approximately zero percent of the world population”
That used to be adjacent to you curled up in the basement.
Now that you swing in the sling of love’s abandon,
You’re like a fruit being pitted, hollowed, though rendered
And choosing to admit it.
“Well, you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into this time”
(Vines cover the sixes and nines, what’s left of time?
Fold those hands that do hold, a glove from above!
Vines cover the sixes and nines, what’s left of time?
Unknown, these hands that do hold, a tug from above!)
All wrapped in the cool claws of love.
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8. |
A Sudden Returning
01:48
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9. |
Natural State
01:59
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I’ll dig up my inheritance
Just to set it by the road,
Go and live in the hole.
I’ll dig up my, dig up my
Dig up my inheritance.
And like the penniless mole,
Like the foreboding groundhog,
Like the Yule log that don’t burn,
Like the uncut jack-o-lantern,
I’ll await my turn,
I’ll await my fate,
My natural state.
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10. |
Pond
04:19
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Between the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth hours of the morning
Watch for the imposing river to wind south and spool into me.
I, the grandchild, a great grandchild of construction waste taking up space.
But I did not wind up down here to make you wiser,
I wound up down here, ponding, growing wider
Wide, wide, wider
Spilling out beneath prisms, lawn fountain mechanisms, and in the blooming shade
Beneath the divisions where stale, glistening,
cul-de-sac minds sit heartless with age.
Beneath the deep lake, the place of Miss Kate, screaming obscenities at the state.
But I did not wind up down here to make you quieter,
I wound up down here, ponding, growing wider
Wide, wide, wider
Let’s stop and imagine one small thing, for your consideration:
What if I was some golden, spirit child sent for your generation?
If I am, if I’m not, I’ll sit digging my thumbs in the southern pavement
And burrow in, ancient rivers, like spiders competing
Grown old, but grown wider.
Wide, wide, wider
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Earth Libraries Birmingham, Alabama
Covering the other-wordly sounds of punk, noise, garage, psych, lofi modern, and the experimental.
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