Smallest Possible Eyes
I want to climb to the top of the nearest hill and
See the world with the smallest possible eyes
I burned a pack of next year's calendars
The new world leaders bleached all the bibles
And said "Survive"
We'll have to start over again
We must define
Our lives and our muffled imperfections
But please don't rush, we've got a lot of time
I wish we could be stargazers and count the constellations like these keys
And losing count's a church of novelty
Replace our certainty with picture books
Take instinct from Myers-Briggs and leave the quantified to empty maxims
And we warm our hands on the fires
That burn us ever on
But please don't rush, we've got a lot of time
Let dog-eared pages turn to skies
And sunburnt clouds- God's new disguise
We read words to tear out meaning
And pull transcendence close
But it's all around us
I wanna climb to the top of the nearest hill and
See the world with the smallest possible eyes
I wanna climb to the top of the nearest hill and
See the world with the smallest possible eyes
And know the love
Of something I can't define
Mascarpone
Who thought this was a good idea?
I'm not qualified to assist
See: my husband card says nothing about this
I've memorized Home Depot aisles
And the corner of the radiator
I can build you things you won't believe
But I'll never understand this recipe
Never been so helpless
You make peppermint scones and bring home
Jars of mascarpone
Leave me here alone and I'll find kitchenette distress
Instead of a meal
You're drawing parallels to Picasso
Cause it was Spanish and it looks
Like I dropped some acid then I tried to cook
Honey, I have tried before
Remember Janet's Chopped-theme birthday?
Our team lost because I thought that
The cumin was the worchestershire sauce
Can't you tell I struggle?
You make blueberry scones and bring home
Jars of mascarpone
Leave me here alone and I'll make a something-esque big mess
Instead of a meal
My hands are homesick with a whisk
How is it that this can be so hard?
I was really hoping that I could impress ya
But now I can see I'm no Barefoot Contessa
You've left me with instructions for some tiramisu
Honey, I'm enthusiastic but I'm no you...
Come home find me slumped on the floor In a puddle of some sad condiments
On tiles littered with pasta sauce cat prints
I tried to call Janet, she didn't pick up
The internet just mocked my lack of forethought
And I think I broke your Kitchenaid appliance
How do you control this dismal science?
You bent down and whispered
Those aren't peppermint scones, it's ---- dough
That's not mascarpone
I left you alone and I found a something-esque big mess
Kitchenette distress
I left you alone and I found a sweetheart husband who'll always try his best
The Scooter Song
Even at this speed it feels like home
Hum a center spiral 'round the drone
On your way to the square
Breathe and watch your context turn bright red
Cause you, you are free!
Count in clicks the sidewalks keep the time
4, 3, 5, 6, 2 they all align
Sign says no bikers
Sign says no hikers
What about my scooter?
You can't define my scooter!
Always called a child's toy but you can't beat a scooter
One foot on and one foot gone and onward on a scooter
Easily concealed, a quick escape comes with a scooter
You can't be defined by signs, you're perfect on a scooter
SCOOTER!
Breathy Bellows
Morning silence in my coffee cup
Reaching limbs still as the snow clouds dump
Disguising the trees as a quiet wife
They shake like an earthquake survivor and I know that there's life
Beasts are out there breathing
Between my starvation wage sighs
White fur to their feet
All the word creature implies
Lungs topped with song for night skies
I picture afternoons spent in the trees
Squinting at an ornament of strange machines
Ferrying sound to the northern side
Quick here he comes and then scatter to wherever they hide from me
A different world runs through me
A vision through animal eyes
Burrowed underground
Chanting carols till sunrise
I howl, you howl lullabyes
For now I'll watch their breath clouds
Filter through branches of pine
Fire up the lift
Greet the morning like an in-law
Wait for the evening to come alive
Can you hear the howls at night?
Echo off the blanket white
Shaking up the pinhole sky
Snow beasts are singing a love song
Mr. Milford
Picture this: A sunny Sunday small town afternoon
Front page paper spread about the new library
Eyes inside a head inside the corner of a café
Twitch in sync with skinny legs by a deerskin suitcase
Oh, he levels cities in another life
He swallows swords of inquisition, whispered bar bets
Oh, he's got a face you can't forget
And his name is Mr. Milford and he's got a secret!
Mr. Grady watched the day he first came to the city
Eyes were lashed with saddle rash from riding Greyhound
People here are giving him the space of someone wide
Shadow cast by a hazy past is long in this light
Oh, he levels cities in another life
He swallows swords of inquisition, whispered bar bets
Oh, he's got a face you can't forget
And his name is Mr. Milford and that is all they know
They want him to go
Their anger shows
Through stares in windows
Wherever he goes
Back in the café his body perches somewhere calm
And you can hear the chorus of one hundred sweaty palms
He says some tiny epitaph and then he starts to laugh
His concrete face it breaks it cracks and if you and I were there trust me
We'd be laughing too
Oh, now he's walking to the door
And he's smiling wider than a bridge too far
Oh, now he's bending with the light
Like a foreign map to fold together
Steps across the cuts the tether
Holding back the bricks and feathers
In a dream you might remember
What the things he whispered meant
Babe and Piglet Go Home
Sneak out the farmhouse
To the silo in the yard
Stare out at the stars
So close but far
We're never coming back again
We've left the trough to brainwashed friends
We're going home again!
The planning, well, you'd be surprised
We cleverly disguised our rocket
In the store of grain
Now the farmer is asleep
Let's pray we don't wake up the sheep
But we won't be meat
Runs off of haystacks
Ramshackle one-way trip to space
Away from this awful place
Us you'll never taste
We came to earth
Seeking our friends
But we were enslaved
By you evil men
Who say pigs cannot fly
Well, watch the sky....
We're never coming back again
We've left the trough to brainwashed friends
We're going home again!
We're going home again!
Fourth Language
I found you at the bottom of my deepest year
In a basement full of sandbox kids
Finding fun again without the knives
They use to carve a way out of their minds
A freedom you called God before you filled the void with all you had to give
There we'll be
Sore from stories over-told
With words like memories-- they can't define our history
As we cross the line
With glaciers stopped by checkered flags
To save a checkered past
From waiting for us after class
Let's string a length between the stars and what they are
And push and pull until we find
A balance point
Cause policy makes puzzle pieces; patchwork little lives
And I am stuck on sticking landings on the point of living so subjectively
Or you could trace the short route to simply being kind
There we'll be
Sunlight freckled on our cheeks
You teach me the morning and I'll teach you in the dark
These words don't mean a thing
Our names are pretty labels but the syllables have value by the virtue of being yours
I wish you knew how rare you are
I wish you knew what seemed so far
Found you and now it's safe to sing
I'm heading east this summer, you know I'll hate the heat
But I'll find the ocean on a beach
To lose myself
And out where you are found, a river runs through every town
So cradle something small that waves a false white flag to the currents like a Trojan horse
Drop it, knowing all things have a source
And there I'll be
Sore from turning over rocks
Looking underneath to rebelieve in mysteries
Suddenly, a lap
Against my ankles tickles me
And plays a memory
And I know what you mean when you said, "I don't need a plan."