1. |
EQ Pegasi
06:16
|
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2. |
Magnetic Pulse
02:58
|
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|
I checked
Over and over.
It’s never over.
When Sunlight shadows the ground
And never leaves a trace,
It’s never open.
The other side of it is the dream that never wakes.
Complacency in heart,
Where never a drop of blood asks for escape.
I resist waking.
I resist waking.
|
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3. |
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4. |
Electric Chant
05:43
|
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|
I’ve been spying on the spy-men.
They’ve been drawing little pictures.
They’ve been drawing little pictures.
I’ve been spying on the spy-men.
They carry small silver things in their pockets.
They paint their faces and hide in shifts.
I saw one, he was looking at me,
He was looking at me, through the corner of his eye—
Spying!
And writing random scribbles in his tiny notebook.
He looked at his watch rhythmically.
I tapped my feet.
The other one,
taking a coffee break,
seemed nervous,
perhaps because,
I’ve been spying on the spy-men.
I’ve got nothing to lose.
The ones who will lose are trapped in suits,
working overtime,
speaking gibberish.
They’re trying to speak to me,
in sign language.
One of them is crossing the street—pointing,
he’s pointing at me!
and his small silver thing,
he took it out of his coat pocket and played his fingers on it,
and then he pointed.
I shifted my eyes to my feet,
to the clouds,
whistled,
I bit my fingernails.
I tapped my feet.
I’ve been spying on the spy-men.
|
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5. |
The Expanse
04:48
|
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|
the expanse,
drifting off endlessly.
Distance seems…
and time evades questioning.
Sitting in a chair with my back to the wall
I notice windows.
Glass between us.
Does the world appear on Saturdays?
When the parks fill with dog walkers,
Otherwise working stiffs?
Is the air better than inside this room?
twiddling thumbs.
Are there any ceremonies today?
or Perhaps a gardener arranging flowers,
a river eroding,
A dog sleeping sideways at the feet of properly Feng Shui-ed furniture.
I can accept this,
for what it is
and nothing more.
|
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6. |
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