1. |
moon's leash
02:37
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lead me astray
running circles with your mouth wide open
you know the way, you say
i was your dog
you had your plate full
ate up your lunch,
thought you'd be grateful for me
soft and steady
here ready with a mouth wide open,
you start to reach.
and so i fall for the story of our hearts half open
it's not your fault
i was the tide,
you held a moon's leash
each time i tried to break
you'd sing
soft
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2. |
linen suit
03:19
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walk, a long way you came
for your right of way
and we evacuate.
molly said could you try?
to take the blackberries right off the vine?
to take your hand in mine
small and green, but a cloud
fills your lungs with an ancient sound
small smoke from underground
and there we were,
penny heads up laughing lightly
and there you were,
linen suit and walking slightly
to the left,
holding on my finger tips and the flesh,
the flesh
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3. |
milky oats
03:12
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milky oats,
country side
not yet july
not yet july
small bird
vireo
you're going home
you're going home
for centuries
a meadow bloomed
from fire's wounds,
from fire's womb
what's left of me
still wanting more
potential for
potential for
when is a meadow done?
when is a meadow done?
when is a meadow done,
when ash will blow it to the sun?
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4. |
familiarity
04:03
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i'll take the months, and you take the side train
harvesting wild greens above the cliffs
finding familiarity in
finding familiarity in
the pickpocketed days on a line down to the cemetery
you think it's strange cause there's no sway in the trees
and i walk along picking the flowers watch the trash going out
and we're all skin and bone, hidden behind masks that we wear now
and i told you the land was on the line,
well you offered your hand and a smoke
and now i'm standing at the edge of a hole with another hole inside,
i tell you of danger but you move closer to the edge and you say
"we're underwater so we'll be fine, we can swim if we fall, we can swim if we die,"
but there's no water left for the fires in the hills in july
finding familiarity in
all the familiarity in.
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5. |
bread and puppet song
03:35
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lost point of view on the weekend
and slip inside any time you come around
i made a cup of coffee
left a note under the door
pause once before i whisper to the garden.
found blackberry stains on the shirt from the costume closet.
and somehow it just becomes the daily
under the sheets of the puppets we made,
and i couldn't find words, so i stay just watching, watching, watching, watching, watching, watching
the cigarette summer
dressed in white holding mirrors up to eachother.
wake up early to wonder
how the forest holds grief and the thunder it seems to know lightning bugs as lovers
on sundays we dance with the brass band in the kitchen
i sing along with the crickets and the chickens
and somehow it just becomes the place of
stories i made in my imagination and i ate so much bread,
so i'll stay
just watching, watching, watching, watching, watching, watching
from the front porch of glover
singing songs in the shape notes of eachother
ride my bike to the lake, lay back and wonder
how the forest holds grief and the strange melodies of a world without numbers.
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6. |
dog beach/
01:48
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walk
to the beach
walk
to the dog beach
see the dogs
see the dogs
i could be the dogs
man, i'll bark
just after dark
and when you're gone, gone, gone well i'll know you're gone
and then night comes and i'll be quiet
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7. |
/soon
03:32
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soon, soon, soon
i'll be with you
back in your bedroom,
giving love to the moon and the stars on your front porch
soon, soon, soon i'll be with you
locking up the house for spring time
i've had enough of all of my insides
there's being to steep in
there's sleeping to be done
riding bikes slowly in the old way
holding hands, gone to dance at your place
finally riding on the subway
making plans, following our big breaks
soon, soon, soon i'll be with you
back in the full moon,
giving love and it's true, that there's nothing to follow
soon, soon, soon i'll be with you.
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8. |
||||
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coming back home to find
the bedroom light is on, and only a sigh
from the kitchen,
and the faucet is dripping in time
what a day just passed,
thought that i'd go to big sur
and photograph,
but i just sat,
and watched all the people taking pictures of eachother,
and when i played guitar a man with a camera must have found me quite angelic,
because he came to take a picture from behind me and i started yelling
could you take one on my phone!??? so all the people will know
that i am not alone
bought a sandwich for too much money
and i ate it on the scenic highway
there's a drone above,
and i wonder how it got here,
who's flying it and from where,
who's watching me remotely as i watch the ocean
who's taking a picture from up in the opem
and i think of what my therapist said:
"you know you're not alone in your head. but you need to feel it, too, in your body."
so i stay still, trying my best to listen
trying really hard not to make a metaphor of anything
thinking about death and intuition
and then i talk about death and intuition with a flower, a scarlet penstemon
it listens closely with its roots in the sand and i pull out the plant and fling it to the open,
we're both here relieving each other of our burdens
please relieve me of my burden
and i'll relieve you of your burden, too
we're both going to know something holy
in our body our body our body
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9. |
room
04:31
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i can feel you too
from the window in the next room
and i can feel you too,
in the bathtub.
i skip on the sidewalk
until somebody notices
i run fast as i talk
from a warning in winter,
your flesh on the sky
you were soft blood and tender bones
in the sun,
in the sun
you were in the room
in the big black chair
and i braid your hair
puppy at our feet
i'm only six
and you breathe your coffee breath on me
we're both awake at seven
sharing silence before it all begins
sharing silence fore it all goes language
you were in the room,
you were in the room,
you were in the room.
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Sophie Lev Santa Cruz, California
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