1. |
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The markings of a Higher Order
had all the makings of a startling happiness
ready to brim over. This is a question
of human endeavor.
This is a question of human endeavor.
The system has been cleared perfectly,
to the point of origination.
This is really the best we can do.
The system has been cleared perfectly,
to the point of origination.
This is really the best we can do.
A voice, a mountain, unspeaks everything—
a textile unraveled and turned to the wind.
The station’s left empty.
The station, itself, has left.
Left behind the trains,
the whole hope and handle
of forward motion…
But I’m still here, dressed and steady,
completely unaware as I watch
a grammar drape itself over a country.
I’m completely unaware as I watch…
The system has been cleared perfectly,
to the point of origination.
This is really the best we can do.
The system has been cleared perfectly,
to the point of origination.
This is really the best we can do.
The turn, and a country unwraps itself
from a pastoral veil. None of it is left anymore.
None of it is left anymore.
Risking a satellite island of loss. Risking a satellite island of loss. Risking a satellite island of loss. Risking a satellite island of loss…….
The turn, and a country unwraps itself
from a pastoral veil.
None of it is left anymore. None of it is left anymore.
|
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2. |
Sunset Dirge
04:03
|
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|
Let the oceans roll through the sky.
We are only our feet upon the ground.
We’ll keep to the trees, keep listing eastward.
Stars somewhere still chirp across
great blank waves we’ll never
know or need… …
We have this map,
heavy pink clouds
rolling over it,
a world of places
for light to stick to.
But does our breathing correct the flight path?
Do we learn to locate ourselves
on the net spread above us?
It won’t happen.
Flickering oil shines the clouds.
A thunder of railroads
collapses into
the broken human voice.
But does our breathing correct the flight path?
Do we learn to locate ourselves
on the net spread above us?
This winter means not to let us through
to the farther hilltop. The sure pull of years
bows to us at the mouth of the cavern
we mean to leave behind. Turning in the wind
we gather ourselves, pull blankets on our shoulders
and go on & on & on & on…
Does our breathing correct the flight path?
Do we learn to locate ourselves
on the net spread above us?
Hunger and winter will vanish.
All breath will shimmer out.
The sun at the edge of the sky
won’t remember. It won’t remember.
The stretch of ground we’ll cross
will sigh, subside
into a world of places letting go,
letting go.
But does our breathing correct the flight path?
Do we learn to locate ourselves
on the net spread above us?
Moonlight hushes our thoughts of the door.
Our voices breathe us back.
Starlight breaks on the surface
of our map.
But we’ll carry ourselves forward
to bring us with, to scatter our bodies
across all the years we’ll ever know.
But does our breathing
correct the flight path?
Do we learn
to locate ourselves
on the net spread above us?
Does our breathing correct the flight path?
Do we learn to locate ourselves on the net spread above us??
|
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3. |
windowface
04:30
|
|||
|
Maybe I was born asleep, will die asleep—
was born asleep, die asleep.
Maybe I was born asleep,
and I’m still dreaming. Dreaming till,
still dreaming till, still dreaming till i
die myself awake.
When I look into the window of another face
I can’t tell if I’ll ever wake up.
I can’t tell if I’ve ever been awake.
I hope to look into the window of your face
and find that it won’t kill me
but just wake me up into
another place.
And maybe I was born asleep, will die asleep—
was born asleep, die asleep.
Maybe I was born asleep,
and I’m still dreaming.
Dreaming till, still dreaming till, still dreaming
till I die myself awake.
I walk onto the sidewalk and I turn
to walk away
from the door and gate that I
have doublechecked are locked.
I close my eyes and I pretend
that with my eyes closed
I can walk along among all these people
as easily as if I were just
floating above them.
And if we are awake,
isn’t it all impossible?
Isn’t it just too much??
The good news is
we don’t have to imagine it
all rolling out terribly
in front of us
it does that all on its own.
The sky still light
knows its time to start
to get darker
and I know my way home
sort of like that.
I breathe in and I cough
over a sip of water and a cigarette,
feeling all alone.
I just want to see your name
on my phone.
And maybe I was born asleep—
was born asleep, will die asleep.
Maybe I’m still dreaming till,
still dreaming till I.
Still dreaming till I. Still dreaming till I — — —
|
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4. |
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|
Trees synapse deep
into winter air—
the few leaves, few holdouts,
outside my window
telling me
Sleep now. Nap now.
So tired. Warm up.
And almost it’s time again,
hmm hum…
Better things, ancient things,
ancient as loneliness, as
friendship, ancient as sky.
If you’ll be my internet boyfriend,
I’ll be yr internet dreamqueen.
If you’ll be my wifi signal,
I’ll be your cosmic moonbeam.
If you dream
a dream of me
I think I’d like to try
and dream a dream
with you, and
nearly we do
know each other
and know the needs
of simply needing
and of asking
without necessarily
expectation
but simply the expression
of hope.
Better things, ancient things,
ancient as loneliness, as
friendship, ancient as sky.
If you’ll be my internet boyfriend,
I’ll be yr internet dreamqueen.
If you’ll be my wifi signal,
I’ll be your cosmic moonbeam.
The specter of digital path recrossings?
Internet, interpersonal,
surrealism this time
from the depths
of so warm a winter,
confused exit to a year.
I hope it’s all winding down
or winding up
or winding forward
wonderfully for you.
Or however it needs
to be for you.
If you’ll be my internet boyfriend,
I’ll be yr internet dreamqueen.
If you’ll be my wifi signal,
I’ll be your cosmic moonbeam.
If you’ll be my internet boyfriend,
I’ll be yr internet dreamqueen.
If you’ll be my wifi signal… … …
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5. |
||||
|
Which of this is a joke
oh my dear? Oh which of this
meant it? Did I mean more?
It’s a wish. Simple as that
but ah no no of course
not simple. Still if it wasn’t
for questions, I feel that
hardly at all I’d speak.
If it wasn’t for confirmations
oh where in fuck would
we ever or even get?
Still, I’ll offer my hand
and still be grateful when
it’s taken. Still, I’ll offer
my voice. Still or always
grateful for its imprint on the air
that has always so far
taken it, carried it.
No matter—
where it lands.
Yes, I was loved
less well than I deserved.
Yes, so were you.
A point in all this? No.
Yet this and/or no reason
nonetheless.
So when we speak to each other
of a past
we are,
neither of us, unsure ever existed
what are we saying?
When I make up a past
or recall a past
to speak it to…
Is this something we’re grateful for?
Am I? Are you?
Still, I won’t get into
the idea of should.
If it’s all the same,
if all things equal,
if that can be and still you be
comfortable, safe, feeling safe,
if, if, if…
that’s not what I’ll do.
I want to know distrust. But more
I want to know why. And
why trust?
I’d like to ask you
for the moment,
Take my hand?
Spill your voice
onto me? Please?
There’s little more
almost nothing more
I could begin to like
or wish for
more than this.
So forget it.
Don’t forget it.
The one promise—
I’ll mean it.
I’ll mean it.
Even when I’m joking
of if I’m joking
I promise I’ll mean it.
I’ll try to do nothing if I don’t mean it.
I’ll try to only do anything if I mean it.
Only if I mean it.
I’ll try I’ll try I’ll try
I promise I promise I promise
|
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6. |
(2G) (4/E) (W/E)
04:52
|
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|
and it was nice to still be getting the hang of
what it means when you say
“me” or “you”
and it was nice to still feel like
i was getting the hang of what it means
by oh
anything that you do
but
i don’t need to think about it
i don’t need
to think about it
i don’t! i don’t!
i don’t!
i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it
no words no words no words no words
no end
to words
together forever whatever
together forever
whatever for now
together forever whatever
together forever
whatever
for now
i don’t know what to do
i don’t know what to say
i feel like we all might live forever
there’s just no use
in getting hung up on
everything one day just
going away
together forever whatever
together forever
whatever for now
together forever whatever
together forever
whatever for now
can i even hear what another human says
when they speak about
what they mean by “yesterday”?
can i even know what they think they said?
maybe it’s better not to ask
not to fall in love too hard for
feeling alone
maybe it’s better to ask these questions
of myself all on my own
i’m sure it’s better not to ask you!
or maybe it’d be better
if i would just
ask you
together forever
whatever for now
i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it i don’t need to think about it
no words no words no words no words
no end
to words
together forever whatever
together forever
whatever for now
together forever whatever
together forever
whatever for now
together forever whatever
together forever
whatever for now
together forever whatever
together forever
whatever for now
|
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confetti armor Brooklyn, New York
confetti armor is garrett miller and spencer hanvik. we make music and art. we'd love to talk to you.
confettiarmor@gmail.com
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