1. |
The Model Gospel
05:48
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When the sky moves and the sun casts its rays
The shadow of you wakes
Under a sun out of season—
awake from dreams plunging
mute cool horizons
and infinite arctic
visions
I am here. I speak your name in whispers:
“Quiet death—
your cabal has raised its mast,
hurried our marriage in panic.
They were tired of nursing us here.
Our aching—needing
to pull through
this black granite.
This cocoon of the sleeping world”
We return to the cement boulder
To towering wells of humiliation
To those kept colonial judges
staring away toward spires for god
piercing the air
I am the sea for longing
Seer through the abstract
I am the pilgrim phantasm
urging through the frost
I am the sea for longing
Seer through the abstract
I am the pilgrim phantasm
I am the model gospel
breaching canals
drifting back
to heaven
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2. |
Nocebo
05:42
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Don’t wait, I’m coming…
Hide your time in me
Those puzzling limbs
bulldozing and bloated with uncertain careless emotion
Childish and grandstanding to humiliate, alienate,
make strange this friendship and corrupt contentment
Every wedding a funeral
Birthdays in black
Men living off the bone in red soil
In difficult phrases I journaled my love for you
You—sculpture in winter (casket speech, languid tune)
Virtuous before stampedes of entangled strangers
Droves of people pushing through themselves to see you—cameras on their
necks, shooting wildly
Basking, worshipping, overwhelmed and terrified
Infinite patience, charm, bravado—
full chested, bolstered and cradling depths of grief
You—that only blue—deep, yearning, sobering, forgiving—
slithering on volcanic crumb (a multitude of rainbow rock)
to oleander fields
to sprawling nude highways
Don’t wait, I’m coming…
Hide your time in me
There is sadness in your sincerity and I approach you as daylight
in a chaos of cold
I am afraid of harm
Of throwing you from my true character
and from embracing true chance—
away from the married past,
all my juvenile misguidance,
that which distorts the present:
deep forbidden gloom.
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3. |
Bordello
04:16
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Wake the earth below
The sky above
and feel the dark of night
Holy ghost draped in gold thread
Night blooming mother of tides flaring red
Cosmos made churning
Churching our shivering
Taking our dreaming
from the blood of men
The morning sun will take my pain (take my pain)
and I will wake again (I’ll wake again)
I’ll recall rebirth
from the leper window.
From cracking bones stretching new,
from the chilling modern moon,
a concrete bloom bordello dancing,
seeping,
creeping toward my love
Take all my pain, I’ll live again…
Limp expressions preying, taking winter blessings
Season of my self imposing—rising, crushing
Riddles and markers and evils that bother
Reaping then reeling from chaos I’ve started
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4. |
Yeva's Lullaby
06:53
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Go there as the tide rolls in
Of weathered and unsoftly skin
Close your eyes and I will sing
and marry you to better things
Far from wind and stormy idle thoughts
and cares and pain and cries
I’ll take you if you close your eyes
Into a place beyond the night
To guarded ground, awake and mad
Where loving lives with hazel jazz
Veins of leaves stretch again
Shaking fists to quarrel
Find your quarrel
Find your quarrel
Find your quarrel
Find your quarrel
Find your quarrel
Shake shackled gates
Bend back golden bars for heaven’s sake
Fated mistakes congeal and sit
like the deep dark trench of vistas in retreat
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5. |
The Circle Unbroken
05:17
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“What I heard about Grandpa was that, uh, he committed suicide basically. That
he just walked out into the water. He had drowned one time when he was
younger and said it was a very peaceful death. And, uh, Daddy had told me that
Grandpa had told him,
‘Go up there, and go up there and play the fiddle’
Uh…uh…it’s an old hymn… Shall The Circle Be Unbroken, but
‘Go up there and play the fiddle’
and I heard he walked out in the water and he never come back up”
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Alto Arc Los Angeles, California
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