1. |
Fort Fun
02:50
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And the moon in its place pinned up high on the sky looks like a washed face fresh, clean, and toweled dry. Each one of us is gently mending some piece of cloth or some piece of self. Evenings are made with endings. Jump ropes are made to break. But, tonight we will be sending ourselves to bed with aches from laughing, from missing each other. How do you say sweet dreams in Spanish? Oh, good night. Oh, what a night.
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2. |
Redbird
03:05
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A red bird's chasing a brown bird but she's not having it none. But I hope they can agree on what's best for both and not just what's fun. Oh, come on, honey. And I'm sure he's a pretty decent bird, praiseworthy at least in a few words. But probably what he's proud of best is she chose him to share her nest. I would like to grow good things by living near with you, but I want most for you to grow biggest by living near me too. In the old oak tree made of tattoo leaves
with the sun and the breeze and the birds and the bees. You mean what i mean and we mean and love so well. Baby birds with weather songs about how hard they fell.
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3. |
La Cantina
02:38
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We’re hoping to expire, or rather dying to retire this night in the most right way and to sleep through all the next day. We make each attempt to make every sound you never knew a body should or could make even if it wanted to. Loud and ashamed of our two left feet and shining scar from a shit sense of direction. Yeah, baby, we will go so far. We pay our haunts and lovers and their back pocket bars a visit every other night. Oh, every night we are. As misery loves company, we happen to be plenty driven to drink, to blink and fall, hoping hard to see and be seen.
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4. |
Ghost Stagger
02:00
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We were here. We were here as much as we could stand. It’s winter and I’m rolling around in your flower beds. To live with ourselves in any place at all. I feel sometimes like I’m haunting this town by the carelessful way I stalk around like a ghost confined to any place at all, not sure why he goes wherever anymore. Do ghosts stagger? I do. It seems that I do.
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5. |
Roly Poly
02:47
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I woke up as a bug. Gregor Samsa but not as famous. Juas a roly poly bug all curled up, so snug or so it seems, but if you try you can apply pressure on my shell, my exoskeleton and I'll be just crushed. Watch my legs splay hey hey there's the blood spray. And then I'm down on the floor. I can't drink anymore, dancing on water. You could pick me up, take me outside where there's sun and it's pretty. But why oh why when you can apply?
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6. |
Mountains & Molehills
04:46
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We’re a podded pair of pretty green peas soon for some soup, but for now we’re babies straining toward the sun to grow big and sweet – the prettiest pair that they ever will eat. Savor. Savory. Butternut. Spaghetti. In a green room in a big borrowed bed we cried for spilled milk and a bump on the head. But, baby, I think we’ll go farther than free for God and the mountains, loving little peas. Savor. Savory. Ice cream and brandy. I want to fall through the clouds to a space where we’re paid a wage to make out in a place on loan ‘til March, in a borrowed bed too, but I never stop and neither do you. We’ll kiss hard until we’re both fighting sleep
and my mouth gets real sore where my jaw hinges creak.
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7. |
Cloak & Dagger
04:02
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All of the often, the here gone days I want to fall on my sword and say I love you, I love you, I love. But push comes to shove and I have a shit spine. My ID tells me I’m six-foot-two but I’m through with perfecting posture. Can’t stand that tall if I want to. But I’ll stretch out fine in the ground. Cloak and dagger slacker swagger soldier with a certain stagger. I drink to think and carry my sword and walk around in the dark and sink. Oh, Lord, que será sera. Shiraz. Chardonnay. Rinse, repeat with no due pause.
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8. |
From Where I Lay
01:33
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From where I lay the view goes on and comes in piece of your hair stretched out full on the twin-sized bed and your back’s facing me but I know you’re sleeping by the way you’re breathing lightly since you stopped smoking. Your soft shoulder blade shown by a warm one from the sun through the slow glowing blue curtain morning.
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9. |
Bed
04:06
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My great grandpa slept in the bed, twin-sized from the catalog ad. Queen bed tossed. Late life loss of love. Same house, same job, lonelier sleep. Withheld surname, passed down counting sheep. Yes, he’s drinking again. I miss my best friend. Family legacy catches me mid-stride. Grandad’s good looks got him nowhere and I’m not next in line for a strong jaw. Bootstrap-pulling-June. Flaming-arrow-sendoff to heirloom. I’ve got love to give. My curse is not his. But either way I’ll live because I’ve got so much love to give.
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Redbird Chicago, Illinois
we were made in indiana. we don't look too good but we try real hard.
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