1. |
Bird
01:58
|
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|
don't forget to be the light
burn the tree that you've climbed
|
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2. |
They Will Be Inseparable
04:26
|
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|
won't the cold begin to break today
I will see the sun in everything
crisp clean light that finds me in her eyes
on the trail of mounting morning clumsy sighs
brother come and see me with my bride
on this old mountainside
right now we are moving in this direction
because the light says so
time to start beginning the movement backwards
to when I was so small
find out that there’s a garden that's mostly mountain
that was there at my birth
screaming and finally open to the feeling of being alive
|
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3. |
Carolina Herons
06:02
|
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|
and we dream the same dreams
of a dark bird with heavy wings
he waits so patiently
on a branch in the locust tree
our eyes are open we’re learning how to see
our ears are open we’re learning to hear
our lungs are open we’re learning how to breath
we awake to Carolina herons flying home
|
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4. |
We'll Soon Be Home
03:29
|
|||
|
we know your eyes will close and you'll breathe steadily
the island of the bed will keep you here with me
perhaps a bird once cried but we're in much too deep
the white door made to glow by the light from the street
heavens tied up in your hair with rings of brass
land them in my hand as the horse comes round at last
and we love the broken plaster and peeling white paint
the love that carries you so fast that you feel faint
we'll soon be home again
|
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5. |
Grey Gulls and Crows
09:56
|
|||
|
our movement makes a light
in the morning our turning wakes
the covers and the motes
and the dust bends you from me
and you ask me do you recall
that day all those years ago
when we were closer to the ground
against a window in my house
looking out through the sunlight
after days of heavy rain
at the floods our yards became
and didn't the clouds move like cars?
and the worlds that were brought
and the boats we built
and the trees were always islands
and our trails were always left
and the dust bends you
and the covers are covered in clues
our trails are always left
because our feet are always wet
and the dust bends you
and unlike the geese we hear at night
the morning grey gulls and crows
are silent in their flight above our beds
|
||||
6. |
Spilling Little Lives
01:03
|
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7. |
Stilson Forest
04:28
|
|||
|
light fixes on the ground
and the oldest wood, so beautifully brown
there was something here just waiting to be said
a warm yellow light much more alive than dead
a broken pine in the backyard of oblivion is what we'll find
cotton from the trees was slowing down
night comes in grades like a backwards town
an upright piano "do you hear that, dear,
do you hear that?”
shallow pools, empty eyes, full shoulders
taken out on a dusty day to the woods
where we walked in silence onto evening
in the morning clouds will burn and roam again
|
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8. |
A Fever In Virginia
02:43
|
|||
|
it moves so quickly
a quiet man who won’t look up
a girl who won’t look at you
until she sits across from you
and pushes herself into
my eyes with her eyes
|
||||
9. |
||||
|
tonight I rode through town with Will
but the fog helped make me feel alone
the orange street lamps became planets
my clothes were wet and I was glowing
lights would float and Will would leave me
in peoples voices without their mouths
still I didn’t know any of this
and I couldn’t have but I saw the future
|
||||
10. |
Bloody Snow
03:07
|
|||
|
well I found bloody snow
and I have known
that the light has stolen you
in the night to feed the forest
when the night has grown
and the light has dimmed
you’ll be back
|
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11. |
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12. |
Scotch Broom
02:44
|
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|
winter trees haven't been like you this year
taking themselves apart in fear again, again
naked, waving around in the burning blue
letting me know that it isn't you in there
almost asleep in a chair in a one room house
deep in the grasp of a mountain town that's almost as tired as you
warming yourself with the shaking of fireplaces
the outside is dark but the insides are green and alive
travel by bus to see friends and family
bringing them gifts of packets of seeds again
|
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Lost River/Old River Austin
Sometimes-folk music made by Matthew Hovey Kemp
bookofarrows@gmail.com
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