Patience. Patience. You cannot force the moment. It will always surprise, as chance gathers reasons. Be ready.
Published as lyrics for GODHEADSCOPE’s Patience EP, 2011.
All posts by MSR
Poem: “The Screaming Mound” (2011)
Do not speak falsely. Brutal honesty: far better a crime than your silence denies. Your tongue presses the bottom of your mouth. Words wait. Tongues are cut out. Tongues rise high; lash the ground. Place your tongue atop the screaming mound.
Published as lyrics for GODHEADSCOPE’s Patience EP, 2011.
Poem: “Walking On Faces” (2010)
The dim light
hangs.
I punctuate
silence.
The dark corner
calls.
I choose
a careful path.
The floor is populated:
metal faces cry,
grimace, countenance
the violence of my gait,
clanking
protests;
warnings;
death-cries.
I enter
the heart.
The ceiling is low
at my head.
Brutal steps
ring sharp
in my ears.
Detachment dies in
protests;
warnings;
death-cries.
I choose
a path of return,
for which I am.
I remember
the dead
only through force,
clanks and cries.
What is my alibi?
What is my alibi?
Published as lyrics for Cindervoice’s Before the Turn LP, 2010. Spurred by Menashe Kadishman’s “Shalekhet (Fallen Leaves)” installation at the Jüdisches Museum Berlin (Jewish Museum, Berlin); video here.
Poem: “A Moth Blending Into Walls” (2005)
Bouncing around the light, space bends and beckons toward a dark end with wings become singed. She flew in through the hallway; circled twice around the room. A strange fear did set in, and she darted to the wall. Through eyes upon her wings, she surveyed her locale, abdomen pressed close to stone, leaving dusty marks not seen. Through eyes upon her wings, she watched as another entered: a fly possessed of purpose, unfolding space toward the light. From her mark upon the wall, her wings did see a spark: the fly cascaded downward in a slight pillar of ash. The moth clung tighter to her mark and closed her eyes, averted her gaze from the center: the irresistible gravity of the spider in the light.
Published as lyrics for Matt Rosin and the Dead Raven Choir’s Fire Mouth collaborative LP.
Poem: “Violence In Crayon” (2005)
He takes a crayon from the jar and draws violence. He presses the green crayon to the edge of the paper: a waxy horizon extends across. Green goes down; brown comes up. The walls of the house are erected: two square windows divided into quarters and a rectangle-and-circle door. The chimney and angled roof reach upward toward rising, spiraling smoke. Brown goes down; blue comes up. Mommy is drawn with a lightness of hand that can only be called affection. Her hair cascades around teary eyes and frightened mouth. Her blue dress emerges in angles. Blues goes down; purple comes up. A small circle is pressed into the paper behind Mommy's back. The same look of fright leaves desperate indentations in the sheets below. A mirror in purple, his body is rooted in place through shaky lines. Purple goes down; red comes up, is pressed hard into the paper. The monster's face swallows the page, hair exploding toward the upper edge; angry eyebrows over pinpoint eyes that nearly fall into the fire mouth. Teeth menace forward as the crayon's pressure rips the page, tears a small hole at the back of Daddy's throat. Red goes down. Yellow comes up, offering a circle with rays extending: a huge yellow sun in the warm corner, standing witness. Yellow goes down.
Published as lyrics for Matt Rosin and the Dead Raven Choir’s Fire Mouth collaborative LP.