1. |
Intro
02:44
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"Triangle"
Written and Read by Morgan Grace Blevins
He’s an upside down triangle, an upside down triangle hopelessly.
All thoughts pooled on the left side because he’s obtuse and isosceles and upside down. He thinks those thoughts over and over, deeper, because he is a serious triangle who knows what it’s like to be a real conscious triangle. But he’s mad at those thoughts sloshing in his left side because they’re always gurgling.
“Piss off” says the triangle.
He had fallen on his left side or had been kicked over. He wouldn’t put it past humans because they’ve never respected the ups and downs of triangles, the rights and lefts.
The triangle has a thick perimeter. His triangle mom called him big boned. It’s a little too thick he thinks, because nothing gets out of there, especially now that he’s upside down.
He is a serious triangle, and he knows his angles too well. He justifies them to himself. 100% I am isosceles says the triangle. It sloshes on his left side. He is full of these thoughts that he makes from the pool. But he can’t decide if they are true. His left side’s too full to tell.
He is an upside down triangle. A hopelessly analytical upside down triangle.
He wonders if there is a membrane on his longer side, the one up in the air, if his mind used to seep through that long side like a sponge, dripping into the grass.
He’s mad because he’s upside down. Actually the triangle is mad because he doesn’t have a membrane. Actually he’s mad because he’s not sexy enough. Actually it’s because of none of that and because he’s a conscious triangle with feelings pooled on his left side.
“Piss off” says the hopelessly upside down triangle.
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2. |
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Diana worked a returns counter in a lamplight town on Lake Michigan shore. Every receipt was a masterpiece to her. Small print typeface looks like Rembrandt when she's bored.
He had the pleasure of knowing her. Even in the dirt, she came out cleaner than before. Darling, hold the door ajar. He's coming straight away, getting in from the rain on a beautiful day, and thinking of the dreams you and he kept stealing.
Daydream. She fell asleep amid the flowers for a couple of hours on a beautiful day.
Daydream. She fell asleep amid the flowers for the rest of her hours on a beautiful day.
"Everything everyone says is alright comes off as wrong and it's starting to bite." That was the note on the green tasseled lamp, flaunting her last breath of poisonous stamps. Joseph knows that she is green. Sow her bones and see them breed.
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3. |
Concessions Felon
04:19
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Welcome home our Sophie Mol. Isn't she lovely and
perfectly tall? Built for a coffin of viable size, one she will stare from with impeccably lifelike eyes, and see Two Things: one off-color and one obscene.
Look at the split ends dying in the aisles, watching the body and its secret smiles.
Fly away you churlish moth. Bring your unhappiness to someone who can talk. Leave this poor boy's heart intact, he'll need it if words come back.
What have you done you little man? You set out on the water and left your caravan. Did you know you'd be the one charged with the murder when all was said and done?
The sick sweet smell of blood; washed out by the river flood.
Take all the blame, Elvis and the insect. Watch what you do when you try to reconnect.
Fly away you churlish moth. Bring your unhappiness to someone who can talk. Leave this poor boy's heart intact, he'll need it if words come back.
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4. |
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All you girls, you think can dance, but to tell you the truth, some of you can't.
She's a budding bright light in the lives of the simple contrived. She's still working day to day, paid by the hour at the minimum wage, but stands up with such grace. She's a stranger to a friendly smile, a housewife for a Neo-Feministic cult of her own. Nobody knows her.
All you girls, you think you can dance, to tell you the truth, some of you can't. All the boys are kissing your hands. Later tonight, they'll get in the van and drive away.
Lack of subtlety, and maybe, you should've kept your head below the sand, you arrogant child. It's far too late for all that now. I hope that it gave you feeling to sit above as all of us would
wait upon your beck and call.
All you girls, you think you can dance, to tell you the truth, some of you can't. All the boys are kissing your hands, but later tonight they'll get in the van and drive away.
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5. |
Niles
03:25
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Parlor tricks and sweet vermouth go along well with everything else inside this shrinking iris, caught in silkscreen mirror. Nervous ticks and pink perfume play a part in the pulling of heartstrings, aging, lit by fading antique chandeliers.
What I thought was going to be a long time turned out to be just fine. Get off your high horse and color this discourse navy, in lieu of red. I love that it fills me with dread; the sense of closeness dripping off your lips into my head.
San Francisco roads are best driven slow, with a false sense of hope and wishful thinking, blissfully unaware that I have never known your real mind. In fact, my life is a sham when it coincides with yours.
What I thought was going to be a long time turned out to be just fine. Get off your high horse and color this discourse navy, in lieu of red. I love that it fills me with dread; the sense of closeness dripping off your lips into my head.
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6. |
Fish
02:53
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One day, the red fish will meet the blue fish on the way back from the intercontinental current station. They'll say "my, what excellent gills."
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7. |
St. Jack Wood
02:38
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Twice in St. Jack Wood you came to me, holding your lungs and hoping to breathe. Do I regret the times we spent at night? I bet you're right.
Repent!
(I lied…)
Amen.
Twice in St. Jack Wood you called me down, once for your dowry, once to be drowned.
I'm not going to miss you. Let us hope this is the end, because if not my friend, you can rest assured: I'll be there when I must for the death of my child, six feet in the dust, stiffening with a smile.
Twice in St. Jack wood, hearing you sigh, blood on your hands and a glint in your eye.
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8. |
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Joseph, bored at the door of a Roebuck and Sears, spent all his time making windswept eyes through the girl at the counter. Boy, those were his best years. As you might have surmised, she was fond of a daydream. He was impressed, and lest you think less of him, he was a gentleman. They were married in Toledo by spring.
He found her unconscious, half the contents of a suspect cocktail spilled. He saw the glass upon her eye and knew the worst had occurred. The help on the line asked for a name on the will. "Diana," he screamed softly, to the operator's sigh. She said in cases such as this we do our best, but I'd guess she won't make it through the rest of the night.
(Joseph sells off all her excess dreams from a cheap hotel as she sleeps peacefully inside the morgue of a Michigan hospital)
On the phone with her folks saying "not this again! Please don't call me widower, that sounds like all my fault that she died on a table in Michigan."
(Fly away you churlish moth)
Delicate fingers like to linger on a velvet curtain drawn, pulling it back to reveal an actor, three shots, whisky, gone.
(Darkness creeping in at the seams like coffee cutting cream)
Though the barren stage suggests a lovely, long monologue, he can't deliver with a hole in his head.
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A Nest for Bird Seattle, Washington
Great...great group of guys.
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