Presages, fragmented remembrances: a kiss just below the ear, then a mosquito’s whine. Days in the wake, these days hereafter. One lover awake, one fast asleep. Clink of glasses, cups into bells. A taste of sweat. Taste of brine. Roll like ocean swells. How salt sticks. A borrowed book. An aftermath. Bells back into cups, a nostalgia that corrupts. The wind in wires, the brass and sirens, the whispered choirs from crabgrass stadiums: they’re broadcast through cracked ceramic, bones battered on chatter and static, but the shatters transmute it, transmit it. Wake at dawn. Refill the feeder. Wait for further signs. Pull the weeds one by one by hand. Scrub the kitchen while old songs play. Now pray for a better day.
supported by 7 fans who also own “Elegies and Creation Songs”
One of my favorite songs of all time. I used to listen to live bootlegs of it back when there was no official studio recording, because the band had broken up. This version is literally a dream come true. Ryan Johanson