1. |
age of anxiety
03:08
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Slow stride. Tongue-tied. Winning none. Sung right, hope collides with a wrecking sun. Is it dangerous to count the larks that circle our room? Is it strange to want the ending first, wildfire, sure-eyed burst? Certain sleight of hand delights in a stilted crowd. Come night, I won’t fight it, I’ll have given up.
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2. |
quiet enough
03:48
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Breath in, lightly. This can feel like a narrowing. Breath in, sharply. Mourn what I can’t be. Moving so slightly, this should feel like a marrowing. Seed me so deeply, I crowd out the trees.
I just want you quiet enough. I just want to find enough of myself before the day is unaccounted for. What are hours if evermore? So spit out my hollow husk. Spin out my shallow musts. I cannot shake this, I cannot give enough. So hold on. Hang on. You’re only gonna have this one. Turn in tickets for the setting sun. And I think you’re too old to rearrange a recessed shoal of damage, so soul undamaged...
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3. |
abdication, planet earth
03:00
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They’ll come down for the rescue, we’ll be fast asleep. Dreaming of all the envy, we can hardly see. Send a ribbon of red light, run it through our sheets. Screaming for all the endings, we can hardly keep up. What a way to make ‘em wait. Burning out, it’s too late. What a wait, what a weight. All falls down. There’s a current of plenty coursing through our veins. Scheming of other endings, justify the means. Send a vision, a flood light, run it through our teeth. C’mon, c’mon, upend me. I can hardly sleep now. Don’t stop, don’t stop running, if you see searching lights. Don’t stop, stop them from coming. This time just hold me tight. Don’t stop, don’t stop running, if you see swirling lights. Don’t stop, stop them from coming. This time just hold me tighter.
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4. |
faltered
03:31
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“woman under your thumb, says,
skull that was a head, says
bloodshot eyes, says”
-Anne Waldman
I’ve faltered. These arms cannot hold you now, bridge made of pewter crowns. And you are the shining jewel, cast in a poor tin round. What if I mold you now? But we don’t show the shadows.
I felt you bend with the lightening hue, so I called you to mend this darkening blue. What if I bottom out? Wrecking to save the bow. Empty but holding ground. And you are the silver spool,
cast on a furrowed brow. What if I unwind you somehow? Where we go, the shadow goes. There it goes, it’s off too soon. Where we go, the shadow knows. There it rows us all to ruin.
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Achings Easthampton, Massachusetts
@achingsband
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