1. |
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Sometimes I like to talk
about the time
I sat back in the TV's good glow
wondering about a moonlight
A short knave? A shorter dell?
How I'd look to escape
on rye bonds
how the loops sounded
and the snow fell on & on
Watching the weather come in
without the mute presence of dawn
a snowfall in cotton song
the whipper-whirl of fore-doom
it comes in great blasts
silently letting dampness dew
to the skin, like electricity
like the lead line dangling it's doom
Speaking to it's mother in the sea
it larks at the fading noon
when the cloud clusters still dance
before they've been called for doom
So on solstice I sit
raiding the summer's poem
the whirl of the sea breast
resounding in it's short swoon
I can see fields of chatter
coming from the radio static
an opera unfolding in birdsong
I can hear one heart break for another
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2. |
Jay
03:18
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3. |
Poem for a raincloud
06:02
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4. |
The summer you were born
05:01
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