Category Archives: audio
Another song-poem-thing (not sure what to call them).
So, getting a bit more adventurous with the garageband. Here’s a new one, with another one baking in the oven—>check back soon for that wordling.
For now, “inlikeness”
I made music! ha. Though, I am new to the little music making biz…and I had to write down in my molskin book the chord progression, if that’s what you’d even call it, so I could type it into my keypad.
some of the lyrics are taken from my recent poem-essay.
Creepy sounding, eh?
I think that works?
Someone pointed out, after watching my videos, that the beginning is offputting, because my anxiety is noticeable. Perhaps I should have edited it better, chosen a smoother introduction, but I guess I like the truth to it. Sitting in my room, trying to read or create something, and nothing happens. I instead chose to make this video. Make something to communicate. Not sure if it works. Not sure if I was true to the daisies I had in my head.
Lovingly, I accept what she says. I hope it helps another somehow.
Before beginning this entry, I would like to direct your attention to my new little audio-wordling. I recently uploaded a new track-song-poem to my Mysapce music page. It’s called “Case Study: Girl Thinks She’s a Sparrow” check it out HERE
Knots have been away, resting their bodies against a sea rock, I suppose, perhaps in Maine. I don’t blame them. Wander the lights, I think, lean against the glass, eyes pressed to an ocean dress.
One of them wanted to come back to me tonight. The herd stamped that idea out of its mind immediately.
It’s not time! knot 34252 said, untangling seaweed into the shape of a helix.
But the one who wanted to come back looked for Jupiter in the sky, drew an equation in the sand for the distance between.
Between listening, the carpet has names for my breath. Another language that perhaps the knots could translate.
Something beams inside me, whispers,
don’t you know, in the listening one composes things, hangs lines of beauty in the air,
As grass keeps growing, though the roots know nothing of it.
Pressed, I think I see knots,
in Maine, or where my thoughts
and You, settle.
when the knots come back, beauty
will reveal She’s been sitting in my corridor,
all along, handing me things like: Your intentions,
the sun caught in a toads throat, forgiveness
open cotton-field-wide under
my feet and You. I will tuck under my bed
the sandpiper who stands one-sided, drunk
from whatever it was my words bloomed in the other life.