1. |
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Now I can say that I was there
Now I will sit down in the square
I’m ripping through a tiny tear
I’m drinking through a straw
But the man in the background is looking at me
But the man in the background is looking at me
Before we go into the hole
There is something I’ve got to know
Why do I have to feel unclean
Before I can come back again
Still the man in the background is looking at me
Still the man in the background is looking at me
Yes the man in the background is looking at me
Oh the man in the background is looking at me
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2. |
Prisoner of Joy
05:25
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Prisoner of joy
Chained to the plane
Looked at a candle with his floodlight
It lit it up
But stayed the same
Which was evidence to him
That the conditions were not right
Prisoner of joy
He took to his life
As a transmission into the air
A chattering sentence
Tapped out in code
Shivering brightly without knowing what had put him there
He was here once before
But he got so spooked that he could not relax
Why did he settle for
The kind of life that pools like wax
Prisoner of joy
He did what he could
He knew he only needed shelter
He stuck to the script
Original list
He watched the others kissing pavement, melting plans
And he stayed away
Prisoner of joy
Keeper of heat
He would find his legs during the judgment
He swore to this
Original list
Greyhound to Binghampton
And up the shady driveway toward the house
He was here once before
And he couldn’t be sure that he was fully released
Why did he settle for
The fools gold patting on the back from the police
He was here once before
But the real fun came
He started talking to himself
In the beginning it was utterances
After a while it was just like someone else
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3. |
Mikhail
05:22
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I woke up floating
In darkness with no pressure from the air
And dreaming of a village square
I think I swept it
The baker had a red stain on his cheek
His thoughts were slow
The river deep
And he watched the street
Or he looked through it
Through the dust he sees a rabbit in the snow
Hindquarter caught and torn
Black bubble eyes
Mikhail would not shut up until he dealt the head a blow
I woke up floating
In darkness with no pressure from the air
And dreaming of a village square
I set the table for an official who was sitting there
The wind shifted
Misting him with fountain spray
I brought him what he wanted and his fork shivered in the bright light
Making angels on the other chair
At the end of his meal he smelled a garden in the heat
To those who loved him
He would like to take this opportunity
To say I miss him too
Why god did not he just own up and show me some humility
I’ve learned to live here
In the doorway with a water snake
As if deciding which bedroom belongs to whom inside the dive
I’ve learned to live here
Now none of my ten fingers work
Tropicalia
Blank memories of water inside the dive
I’ve learned to live here
In the doorway with a water snake
As if my stillness was enough to prove which one of us was dead
I’ve learned to live here
Talkin my ear off with his troubles
Takin a photo of the yellow water line
Dried up, coiled, fast asleep
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4. |
Muddy Window
04:46
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Mark is at the bandsaw
Talkin bout QBs
Blue square windows glowing with the snowpack
And Jackson’s by the furnace in his bare feet
Mark is at the sander
Talkin bout OT
Blue square windows glowing with the snowpack
And Jackson’s watching surfing on the PC
Melissa still holds her coil
Muddy window to the classical form
Burning little ski trails on the glimmering foil
Muddy window to the classical form
Saw each other on an island
Saw each other in uniform
Saw each other in the grip of command
Huddled up on a train platform
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5. |
A Run at the Funnel
03:07
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I’m a pole
I’m a rat
I believe
I’m intact
In the apse I shudder huddled up like a bat
White snow packed grey with a gleam on it
When the sun comes up I’m gonna run at the funnel
I’m calm
But I’m in pain
I’m a roped up dog in the rain
I’m a choked up brother huddled up above a train
I have dreamed my whole life of closing in on it
And in the filtered light I’m aware of the struggle
Blue smoke
In the boughs
See the big blue chute coming down
I’m a freaked out mother holding children on the ground
I’m the sense of a presence when you’re leaning on it
How I long to be gliding in the tunnel
I’m here
I’m stunned
I’m a sun drunk kid with a tongue
I’m a brand new stutter when the captain’s in the bunk
With a bright red mouth forced grin on it
From the north northwest it arrives as a funnel
When the sun comes up I’m gonna run at the funnel
How I long to be held up inside the funnel
How I long to see striped patterns in the funnel
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6. |
Telephone
04:23
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What is the window to the home?
Telephone telephone
What is the window to the home?
Telephone telephone
Where is the center in the photo?
Telephone telephone
What is the source of the bells on the hillside?
When somebody dies
All at once you’re alone
Where do I carry the brand new body?
What is made out of stone?
What is made out of stone?
Welcome to the window to the home
Welcome to the window to the home
I caught a glimpse of a heavenly beam
Far as the eye could see I saw the scene
And I kept the presence from speaking to me
Telephone
I saw the angel emerge from the grass
As strong as a leopard and blank as a mask
I held my hand to the glare as I sang
Telephone
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7. |
Tapping the Glass
04:06
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I tapped the glass inside the bird
(I felt the metal in the cattle)
The little window streaked with dirt
(The box was sinking in the soil)
I felt a sliver in the rubber in the rib
(Leaned on the box as it went down)
The little one was hot from the ticking in its body
(And the big one kept me cool as it went burping underground)
I tapped the glass inside the bird
(Leaned on the sinking metal block)
I have tapped upon the window many times throughout my life
But there was never a response
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8. |
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The dark flash of an airplane on the sun
mayday parade wrenches the town
I heard two fighter jets had flown the route
But buzzed the tower late
The exercise would not resound
So when the captain made them throw away the milk
They knew the lord had risen overnight
Even the nightclub
With its copper mugs and old grenades
Has somewhere in the basement you can hide
The dark flash in the grey light of the moon
A woman blowing on the sand
If she finds carrots in the dolomite
Then let her shuffle back toward the motherland
So let the white shape of the powder of the plume
That she kicks up inside the breeze
Rise as a signal to the overhead
That who remains still shuffles home in dignity
Little neck straining
Wonderful training in the fog
Above the meadow and the lake
I can’t see up to it
But I am sure that it goes on
So many holes about the landscape
Can’t keep the horsefly off my mouth
Somebody’s standing behind the house collecting water from the roof
Into a pyramid of brown tin cans
Waiting for us to move out
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Pelted Shell Cornwall, Connecticut
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