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lyrics

lo and behold: the cement on the beach!
crumbling altars altered… a sea change unceased…
revolve ‘round repeating Raptures…
remove the timescales from our eyes as we gaze at naval plumb lines.

water trickling off our bodies umbilically tra-
ces the paths out of an inner space…
cord evaporates––
the tapestry elapses into skies cyclic’-
ly!

hark! garbled codes and codas in seashells…
questions of trees fallin’ lost when Babel fell…
you can hear a pin hit the floor
before the needle drops into the geologic record’s grooves…

this threnody ‘s the only anodyne to rely on Anno Domini…
dominoes in spiral patterns flow––spreading infections and wings alike…
ripplin’ out from the nipple into lands of honey preserves––
inlets, outposts, ghosts, and garbage islands…

sensory deprivation chambers submerged
in erogenous zones grasped with mind and hand...
arousal of the aureoles…
depth charges in search of orgasm… the cell doors explode open!

a soul is an egg that is pregnant––
vestiges build the nest…

pluperfect clouds somnambulate through
sewer systems and blue skies. mermaids
in waves of spermicide
(beached on farmland ‘midst reindeer)…

the scents of salts haunt the collective dream––
the threat of waking up or falling asleep?
auspicious reverse baptism…
first breaths… the lungs swell like parachutes… the memories birthed and exhumed…

scatter all of our ashes in the
ocean and see that our grave is kept clean…

transgender plants dance at land’s end…
intersex symphonies, ascend!

flavors on tongues lead to gnashings of teeth…
machine’ries of death on the breath––but how sweet!
the instinct to consume consumes…
links form the first Chain, which we remain ensnared in even as we reign…

is matter a
property of consciousness?

there’s no such thing
as lactating syllables.

locate brainstorms…
you will find them in landfills.

delphian muse,
are we a wick or a fuse?

we know the truth,
but we do not know it’s depth…

at the break of dawn i cracked an egg…
at the break of dawn i cracked an egg.
at the break of dawn i cracked an egg!

Persephone has her day at the beach.
is it Poseidon her prayer should beseech?
like steam spurting up from the whale––
this isn’t a song, it’s a signal flare from an igloo aired in the glare…

credits

from Underwater Opera House [Solo Acoustic Demos], released January 24, 2015

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Le Phone Cord Oakland, California

"Just a schmo like you or me.”
––David Thomas of Pere Ubu

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