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lyrics

here i am once again––
in more ways than one––
in the sand on the beach
bein’ bleached out by the sun.

history, hysterectomies, anomie, and anonymity––
are these my enemies? manifest destiny? or maybe an option-three?

all vessels must decide to be propelled by capillaries or masts/wood.
false nostalgia could just as feasibly drown ya as your hometown could...

what’s the umbilical, rhetorical effect of this struck syllable’s bell?
fountain pens on a shell-shocked, hell-scaped young man’s novel fontanelle...

the idea of soul ends up a phantom limb you can’t even fathom...
“if you love it, let it go!”––unless it don’t grow, then all you did was abandon...

i doubt i’ll ever feel as free as the first time i stayed home alone.
a calling to belonging inside empty buildings and ruins of stone...

cultural memories lapse but can also relapse within a synapse––
maps snapped open, astrolabes soakin’ in strobed light and my CSF casked…

these are things about me…
still i doubt me that they are me…
they’re an armies fighting for me…
there are five me’s, six me’s… seventies, totaling…?

whippin’ around the bends and the blind curves
of rail-less cliffside
roads, had to rely on the signs so
to not make beelines…
end up in a maw full of sawtooths
where there is no time,
when there is no place
you’re frozen when you die.
there is a new Space Race
that traces through the mind.

i’ve a few good friends.
there’ll be other women...
but right now all i want
is to go swimmin’...

credits

from Perennial Dock Morning [Solo Acoustic Demos], released November 27, 2014

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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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