Tag Archives: music

Apricots & acorns

I can’t hit
the notes
when my throat
does that thing
I can’t hit
the notes
they’re just
so good
I’ve got somethin’
in me gotta get it out
I’ve got somethin’
in me gotta get it out
gotta get it out
don’t uproot me
again—nothing
looks familiar 
don’t uproot me
until it’s time
to go—I’ll go
I’ve got somethin’
in me like an apricot
I’ve got somethin’
in me like an apricot
an apricot
in my clenched fists
bursting running
down my arms
in my clenched fists
bursting running
down my neck
two pits to be planted
in the dirt
before the mountain
freezes in December
someday
when all the pines have died
we’ll still have apricots
& acorns
we’ll still have apricots
& acorns
X




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The seahorse

I wanna go
under there
again
fuck you & all your asphalt
take me back
beyond the shore
beneath the waves
I don’t wanna be a particle
anymore
I don’t wanna be a wave
again
I just wanna burn
burn
burn
these tetrahertz teeth
I just wanna breathe
breathe
breathe
my liquid lungs are glowing
I wanna go
underwater
again
I wanna close
my eyes right open
fuck you & all your pretty sky
take me back out
way beyond the shore
beneath the waves
I’m not gonna be a particle
anymore
I’m not gonna be a wave
ever again
I just wanna burn
burn
burn
in a circle
I just wanna breathe
breathe
breathe
the black water
where the iceberg
meets the seafloor
scraping
in the darkness
the red water
where it bursts
open to magma
exploding
in the






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Gold country

Roll a joint
break it down
between these itchy fingers
feels so sticky
so real
set it down
forget about it
there’s this scratching post
at the top of my head
the smell
of undoing the knots escapes
the static screams
behind the songs
the tubes they used
glowing darkly upside down
almost hidden, untouched
clean of oil
the tremolo, the springs,
the thin twang of a fender
warbles atomic geometry
like markers
upstroked
left to hang
to sustain
twenty minutes in the pot
set a timer to forget
let it cool until it’s tepid
this exact same thing
every ten days
triple digits out there
the wall is breathing 
I got EMA on the box
she makes me feel
I’m not sweating anymore
I was burning in the sun
hollowing them out this morn’
their insides like to breathe
their outsides need the light
& who wants larfy schwag
snow lotus brings the frost
out of skyhigh spears
super silver haze
breathes in the breeze
coming down
off the Sierra’s
down
this iron dusted gulch I dwell
they dance
this time of year
the cats are passed out
on the deck
a shadow of a vulture
scans the dusty
ground pops
with crickets
a mockingbird posts up
on a dead ponderosa
after a flash of his bomber wings
I wipe the webs off
on these cutoff shorts
the bees savor every drop
of water they can find
a woodpecker knocks
it’s beak for some bugs
the only other sounds
are far off
muted by currents
the forest at the top
of the hill
the fox den
overlooking the house
the bend
in the trunk of the pine tree
I love watching
summer burn
our souls away
until there’s nothing left
but rain
but hope
but love
to find it’s way
thru the mud & snow
& acid trips
again





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Close your eyes

                                      You’re a sweet

                                           fractal fucking god

                       you got all your tentacles 

                  I’m in the back seat of the ride

                  laying down with my feet up

                         giggling like an idiot

                                          the power’s out

                              in the whole entire town

                         we’re cruising thru the dark

                                             back to Bradenton

                                 though it isn’t to me

                                    I can’t hear your stupid

                                            sober cartoon voices

                                        except for little bits like

                              gorilla suit this & Wayne that

                              I’m missing the thin warmth

                              of the girl who picked me

                            out of the crowd & stayed

                             in my arms until it was over

                 I wondered if it was the acid

                          we had to go our separate ways

                         tethered by a code of numbers

                                a holloweyed goodbye I can’t

                                     seem to forget—the fractal

                  fucking octopus god just shimmers

       like scales coiling underneath the surface

                        completely unknown to anyone

                              but I see you motherfucker






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The things I do

There’s a reason
why I make
my echinacea
& elderberry tea
after dark

The plants feel nice
inside me extracted
the honey of course
that’s a give in

The warmth is soothing
even in the summertime
it makes me want to
smoke more hash

But no it’s neither those
nor the taste
nor the ritual of making it
just right each time

It’s not even the subtle
apothecary & mushy berry smell
it wafts in my face as I play
strange tunes while I wait

I can use the cuff of my sleeve
from my hoody to suppress
the strings in these spots
make it cry like a broken sitar

So it isn’t that either
nor is it the way they strengthen
our defense against sickness
infection & fuckery
& since we’re running out
of things it could be
I’m sure you must be guessing

It’s a large blue mug
too big to be drinking
before going to sleep
which makes it the perfect size

I’ll wake up in the middle of the neon
night with the need to take the hugest
piss I’ll be god damn amazed by it all
but more importantly I’ll remember

The subtle details saturated
by the side effects of my redeye
where I was
what was happening
I would have forgot
all about what
that feels like

I’ll close my eyes & light
that little fire
I’ll taste it
melting into the bed
like marshmallow & leather
blueberries & pine





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No face no sky

I sat there
watching parts
of a ziricote dulcimer
fall out of your open chest
knocking on the wooden floor
like it was a newspaper
unfolding on the other side
of the breakfast table
what I couldn’t understand
were the strings
where they came from
why it seemed like
they wouldn’t ever stop
coming out but they had to
there had to be an end
to this where you pick it up
put it together
and play it for me
like it never even happened



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The things I’d do 

Retrace the heart
out of the pollen dust
layering the nylon string
acoustic’s body
now it has a shadow
another version
of the same heart
on the same guitar
pressed up against my bare chest
it’s out of tune
it’s been a while
but the e isn’t
it all lines up
everywhere I’ve ever played
is right here buzzing
rushing water running through me
melting down from the mountains
coming off these old black
& bronze nylon strings
the smell of the world blossoming
thru an open window without us
getting lost in the circuitry
of focus I would go
like I did that one time I was dancing
alone with a mask on the back
of my head looking down
on everyone from above
I want to do that again but could I
run my thumb & fingers over them
in different ways, different rates
what do I remember
what can I make up
before I gotta go out
& do that thing




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