Bilious We •

 

 

I so often wish I could bring you sensations, moments, bits of the fabric of things. Today, on the edge of the forest, white throated deer ate new leaves off of saplings a few feet away, as I, black clothes stark against the bark, picked sap and brought it to my face. These moments, like the rocks, in some way unmoving, smooth, clever. I wish to bring these to you untarnished by translation, and in the same moment I know it to be impossible. But I know that very soon we will be in the same room – and that that is the closest two humans get to seeing, as one, the quality of light in an afternoon.

Immaculate Concept

This song plays in my head as I stand on the fence across from the mall. Quickly, urgently, I smoke a cigarette. A single drop of rain falls on the corner of my mouth. This brings me into the sense-memory of kissing you. There is visceral truth in these tightly-spun lyrics.

 

I, unhinged, sorry

Hold care for you

Begin to love`

The utmost

And who else

Spire bound

 

 

 

An Average Night in Honduras

 

 

 

I offer you music in two different spirits. The first is that of rejoicing, of proclamation – an expression of joy or gratitude – an outpouring. The second is that of invocation – a plea and a call to arms, a desire for the magic of the song to seep into my being and feed me.

This is thrown out in the second spirit.

seperated by type and temporality 

 

I’m on vacation”

Why must so much of life be convalescent? What is it that we are all so desperate to recover from? Our childhoods? The weight of the life we’ve built?

Is it not possible to enjoy all of our time in this wildly beautiful world? In what grevious reality must our everyday lives be so dull as for us to desire an escape from them?!