1. |
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Here’s a factoid
For consideration
Just their shadows were captured
On security camera installations
Laughing around the bend
Driving head-long into fog
That descends
On the road we are traveling
Flying across corrugating
Backscreen of a mountain
Projected on the greeting wall
By the lenses spewing light like fountains
Laughing around the bend
Driving head-long into the fog
That descends
On the road we were traveling
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2. |
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He will listen for magic
He will sing prayer
Of information he has knowledge
The space apart, he understands
Along the way
He misses something
Along the way
The gap in awareness widens
On the journey to locations
Speaking plans in soft blue light
He passes a museum storefront
Sinking in sand the head of a dog
Along the way
He misses something
Along the way
The gap in awareness widens
Talk and talk and talk
He breaks the words apart
He passes a museum storefront
A mobile whose pieces never touch
Along the way
He misses something
Along the way
The gap in awareness widened
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3. |
Black Marks
03:30
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He leads me on
He says the fall is long
There’s no other way down, you know,
He warns
Teach me to cannonball
Teach me to cannonball
Howling under the water
A change in gravity’s pull
And the slow withdrawl of the event
Asleep in the curl
And when I wake
On the island
I bind leaves in a book and I take
A point from the fire
Black marks, sparks
Scatter and fall as I recall
Teach me to cannonball
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4. |
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I’d like someone to lead the way
To a corner of this palace
And whisper through the crack in the wall
Phrases of strength and reassurance
I’m told a fire can burn for a year or two
Some places below the ground
You can’t see the smoke or feel the burn
But in the wind there's the sound
A glass of wine in with a tall bearing
Sits in the middle of this prison floor
And a watcher’s eyes are apt to see movements
Where there's nothing but the shadow of a spider
They say the day will come when the door swings open
And there’ll be nowhere to run
There’s a catalog of sultan’s deceits
Every wanderer in the dune gets one
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5. |
Center Median
03:22
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Watcher of sky
Don’t make me explain my heart’s desire
Your saint’s silken hems brush the edges of the sty
And these hallowed names
He speaks them over the phone
The last time I saw him was walking
Down the center median
Headlights shine
Twin sets of animal eyes
Horns and sirens, a siamese fire hydrant
And these hallowed names
He speaks them over the phone
The last time I saw him was walking
Down the center median
He grips like fire
He turns to recognize me
His bruises are
Pulp with glass like sequins
And these hallowed names...
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6. |
Rain Street
04:00
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There’s a road to leave
And a map you can’t believe
On Rain Street
Up in the tower
The pilot cut the power out
In the windows gleams
Rain Street
Demon sneering at the lamb
A better friend would lend a hand
On Rain Street
We spin like tires
Past the monks who set themselves afire temporarily
On Rain Street
Urns ahead but we’re in a rush
To turn this loving touch to dust
Can you stop me?
Verses left I haven’t learned
Cloud nest the bush has burned
On Rain Street
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7. |
Wings of Abaddon
02:10
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I’m going to walk right out of this mountain
Out of this mountain around the bend
I’m going walk right up to that door
I’m going to shed my miner’s boots and enter
Left my wife sleeping in feathers
Sleeping in feathers all alone
Left my baby sleeping in the wings
Sleeping the wings of Abaddon
I’m going to stand right up to the ceiling
Up to that ceiling of cold, cold stone
Up through the tunnel of the belly of the mountain
And out into the day the day I’ll go
Glass of whiskey sitting on the table
Savior’s blood a glass of wine
Three dark seeds don’t grow by water
Only by the tears you cry
Out on the river fish are jumping
Bears are dancing on the backs of mice
Pillars of the temple cutting up the heavens
Sparrows carrying angels’ knives
Laying here I dreamed I was a baby
Sleeping in a crib in the in the house of the Fair
Woke right up with my brothers and my sisters
Ready to sup with my familiars
Bells ring but what comes after
What comes after only one knows
Grab his hem, follow his lantern
Walk behind the Prince of Echoes
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Menchaca Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Menchaca is a Pittsburgh-based artist, composer and writer.
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