1. |
Acme Parking Garage
03:35
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In the fetal position, wondering what comes next
In the supermarket, anxiety comes
Trying to breath
Trying not to think about breathing
Trouble getting up in the morning
Trouble staying asleep
I dream of sleep
In the supermarket, reading to distract myself
Endcap special: Three for four!*
*Must buy three or more
In my car when I fall apart
Turn the radio loud
Trying to breath
Trying not to think about breathing
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2. |
Mascot
03:32
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From six to ten on weekdays, you stood out front of the Chick-fil-A giving samples to kids who were cute. Passed out once from the heat in your cow suit. It was a sad scene—you spread out on the floor, all those kids crying, running for the door.
From eight to nine on weekends, you called to check in, to make amends with your sister living on the east coast. You in a cow suit, her writing for the Washington Post. It was a sad scene—you spread out on the floor, all those dads crying, you crawling toward the door.
It was a sad scene—you spread out on the floor, tired of wanting, wanting more.
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3. |
Iridescent
04:00
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Grief, I sit beside him—monochromatic. Relief, I have seen her, all iridescent, from her heel to her shoulder. Daughters, they will keep you, and sisters, they might save you.
Grief, when I outstrip him, he turns to meet me. Relief, I have seen her, all iridescence, from her heel to her shoulder. All iridescence, idle and blessed.
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4. |
No Compass, No Map
05:07
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Blackest sky above
Dewy ground below
Walked the runway of the backyard
You were doing your work while we were asleep
And when you were in over your head
The ground gave way an inch at a time
You kept plodding, sirens calling
You looked up to get your bearings
The light of the moon faded from view
Now it's blackest sky and blackest earth
Still following the sound
An army man lashed to the sail
And a singer, once, sang his way past the sirens' wail
No compass, no map
Us pleading, hands folded in our laps
Trinkets in cigar boxes
Mementos saved for the next life
Or the next move
Your life fringed with glory
Thoughtful words rolling off your tongue
But when you heard the call, an about face
Saints with wrong marching orders
A short circuit in your brain, in your heart
A soldier tied himself to a tree
And a poet, once, sang his way past blackest seas
You went wading, called home
Your life fringed with glory
Memento for the next life
Blackest sky above, dewy ground below
Blackest sky above—wading home
Saved for the next life
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5. |
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6. |
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The rain came suddenly, the wind blew open the curtains. My heart it swelled up inside me, the water covering all surfaces. And when my wife came home—the carpet soaked, my desk dripping, me staring blankly at the wall, her wondering what she could be missing.
The thought came suddenly. I was walking round the town. I stopped at the baseball field, rested right there on the pitcher’s mound. We rushed to pack our things.
You left your job, we burned the landlord. We left our storage locker full.
You were suffering—frankly, you were bored.
And a half-mile from Allentown, you press your face against the window and watch the water coming down. You trace both sides of a rainbow.
Sleep came slowly. I was staring into black, surveying the last several years. Spool a memory, play it back, then play it from the start. Find the moment on the screen.
Pick apart a single gesture, try to understand what it means.
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7. |
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When we were kids, we made a promise
We crossed our hearts
And for a while, it was settled
We’d leave this place together
No one can hurt you like a friend can hurt you
When we were kids, we made a promise
We’d leave this place
Together
And for a while, it was understood
I would lead
You would follow
But here’s the thing
You never know when you’re the one
Who’s doing it
And the worst part?
You never know when it’s you
You never know when it’s
You who’s doing it
When we were kids, you cast a spell
"No one can hurt you"
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8. |
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There’s a picture of you I call up often. It’s you, it’s you in your wedding dress, arms akimbo. There’s a memory of us I replay often. It’s us, it’s us on the westbound bus, headed nowhere. There’s a promise that I had trouble keeping. It’s me, it’s me. You say, "we weren’t made for misery—you were made for me." Hannah, I know it wasn’t always easy. I know it wasn’t always good.
There’s a lesson that I had trouble learning. It’s you, it’s you when you’re sad and blue. "We need space," you said. There’s a station we sang, late in the evening. We sang, we sang along to most every song.
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9. |
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The screen door slams and I’m upstairs. Heavy footsteps on the landing. I’m in the tub hiding, the curtain closed, the baby on my knee. What’s left for me? As far as I can see, through this plastic liner, the hazy image of a friend, the sound of dresser drawers opening. Two suitcases packed, a car seat for the baby are all that’s left for me. He turns the key and leads us down the driveway, out of the lion’s den and into the lion’s maw, or so it seemed to me then. Purple bruise on my wrist, rug burns on my knee. Nothing to see, nothing to see but all that’s left for me.
My husband puts his hand through the window. "I’ll be damned if this happens to me." He throws his weight against the door—an empty room, clothes on the floor. Now he sits. And he thinks. "There’s nothing left, nothing left for me."
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10. |
First to Leave
04:12
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I remember watching you dancing, letting loose, light forming a halo round your head, and you laughing at nothing. You were two weeks out from leaving our hometown, and when I mentioned what I had meant to say, you tugged at my shirt.
I remember watching you dancing, letting loose, light forming a halo round your head, and you laughing at something. You were two weeks out from leaving our hometown, and when I mentioned what you had always thought, you tugged at my shirt. I was laughing at nothing. You pulled at my shirt, you were laughing at nothing.
I remember watching you dancing, letting loose. Light all around you.
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11. |
Child of My Sorrow
03:50
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I sat down in a folding chair and we formed a semicircle. We formed a human chain
full of smiles, full of care. I wouldn’t let go. And if he would call to me, well I would gladly leave. I would gladly believe in just about anything. And I wouldn’t let go. I remember my mother’s voice, her kind and quiet way. And when her heart stopped, I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t let go. When Jesus finally comes for us, I will gladly go. I’d be glad to know there’s more to life than pain.
Jesus, be near me.
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The Chairman Dances Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Band/mystics (indie rock & folk from Philly)
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