1. |
Brown Recluse
02:58
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Brown Recluse
I was but a beamish boy
newly minted in the meadow
sifting through my chattels
anointing trading cards and trinkets
salvation
at the crack of each box lid
whispering is a house a home now
portrait of a revelry choked
in the gossamer web
of a waking noontide day-mare
the brown recluse
legs splayed open palm wide
tethering dread to my loves
like ley lines
I shrank,
soaked in her wet ocelli gaze
it took me out of my room
trying to shake the sight
it took the rest of my bloom
hiding to be unseen like the night
though times made a ghost of me
she's still out there watching me
is a house a home now
is a house home
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2. |
The Tableau Stags
02:36
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The Tableau Stags
deer gods acre sleeps
on a borogoves wingspan
between dusk-fall and daybreak
lulled by and by to the sound
of a grindstone operachi
william the cutler plys his trade
soaked in spirits
sparking vorpal into blades
the tableau stags sway
kissing life from verdant graze
upright in unrepressed repose
deer gods acre stirs
on a borogoves wingspan
between daybreak and dusk fall
the beamish boys are away
and the meadow yawns awake
william the stalker plys his trade
soaked in spirits
bolt and bow to slay the day
the tableau stags swing
like a ruminant dirge
caverns cast in crimson gleaming gore
upended antlers hang in effigy
and the morning
has gold in its mouth
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3. |
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A Cloud, A Cauldron, A Colony
sons and daughters of the meadow
a tree line clandestine
ritual of play
casting seasons into years
our eyes narrow
to the fluttering sky
a colony nocturnal
the witching hour in flight
i was slight at twelve
when the notion dawned
those aren't birds, harrying the dusk
a cauldron of red eyes flit
boiling over in pairs
bloodshot
blood-love
bloodlust
tattering clouds burst
on pointed wings
envoys of the equinox
ribboning through slithy
with malice
this is blood-love
this is bloodlust
this is bat country.
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4. |
The Meadow
02:54
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The Meadow
the recluse led a deathless day
escorted past like a chained killer
lurking legs left to the meadow
still out there to this very day
the stags left life on display
a split rib hanged installation
william left life on his back
mad as a hatter, solus as god
demeter spilled from the cauldron
careening down our chimney throat
chiroptera cradling the curtain mail
soot clad, sleep the sun away
oh dearest daymares
figments, phantoms, 1, 2 and through
my heart was your haunting ground
now dauntless it sounds out loud
kindly conjure yourselves
sincerely yours
a once beamish boy
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The Sawtooth Grin Providence, Rhode Island
Sawtooth subverts common expectations of grind by saturating their tunes in thick layers of harmonic and rhythmic prose, piling on even more emotional weight to their beastial vocal barrage. Spun into a dizzying web of tension and release, you laugh or cry or slam your steering wheel; red-faced, and begging for more. ... more
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