1. |
The Train Keeps Moving
04:04
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up higher here
the earth points and shifts
endless ocean, active squint
i could sit on this rock for the remainder of the season
my eyes became addicted
to speeding over words
how much of my life have i spent
gazing up into aquamarine and wishing?
THE TRAIN KEEPS MOVING, EVEN WHEN I'M SLEEPING.
in the 1960s
friends just like me & my friends
believed they could change
more than the world around them.
well i believe
if i change the world around me
then maybe
the change will spread like dandelion seeds blowing and landing
is there ever any hurt in pushing hoping higher?
everything is in obsidian black silhouette.
there's summer color above treetops, rooftops, and mountaintops
these are the longest days of the year---
being outside & listening,
its like the after-echo of a handmade drum
[sea, sea, sparkle, dance, sparkle, dance, and sink into me]
THE TRAIN KEEPS MOVING, EVEN WHEN I'M SLEEPING.
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2. |
Red Stripe
03:59
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in the evenings between eight and eleven o'clock
in the same sky-lit room after the same walk
past fine folks addicted to meth amphetamines
who've been shooting/snorting/whatever in public latrines
i sip tea from a mug you sort of made
and we watch a movie with that guy from 'BLADE'
it's amazing
Wesley Snipes, action hero:
as a drag queen!
show me the print that won honorable mention
and i'll get confused about my intentions
when i arrived you were eating a sandwich from the Pita Pit
and surfing idly on the internet
while listening to frank sinatra
and laughing the whole scene off but you don't gotta
let's dance to these absurd songs
and wish wish wish that the summer stretched on
look, look, look around you
it's a british comedy series
from two thousand and two
look, look, 'look around you':
fake educational videos
there to push away the world's woes...
when we say goodnight i will stop for a minute
on your back porch step down so i can fit
into this hug that we've been practicing
and when i step through the gate i will sing
in a way that's so "embarrassing"
i will sing along
with the headphones on
i will sing
in a way that's so "embarrassing"!
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3. |
The Heat Wins
03:40
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learning to love you more dot com
why on earth do we celebrate bombs
bursting in air
by grilling hot dogs,
pumping fists,
and torturing real living happy dogs?
take a flash photo under your bed,
make a poster of shadows,
draw a picture of your friend's friend!
i think we should give out poems at our lemonade stand,
(don't you?)
drop some knowledge
(let's make some berry wine)
eyes shut
(make sure to buy at least 4 limes)
the heat wins
(like it has so many times)
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4. |
Notebook
02:23
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all in one day:
the farmer's market,
the bulk spice isle,
homesteading books
& apple sauce!
my dad's faded shirt,
woven coffee bags!
handwritten signs,
ghosts clouds,
spruce tips,
crackers, cheese, and cherries!
draw the bath...
weathered wood & water color!
travel mug strapped to my bag.
wooden postcard waiting in the mailbox.
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5. |
Midsummer Midnight
04:05
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you drink the einstein blend,
and search for small enough rain pants, ,
listen to our smiths songs,
and sew on that morrissey patch...
you have nightmares about missing the bus,
and ever since you told me about them
i've been frequently miss-miss-missing the bus.
up with the twittering birds,
write write write write to me!
remember getting grassy feet?
rubber boots collect the grime
evergreens, ferns, and pines
from the back seat on curving roads,
watch the ocean running away.
you wrote "happy midsummer" in finnish
and my heart stuttered.
in that same letter you pressed
colorado wild mountain flowers
sagebrush buttercup, bicknell's geraniam, and leafy aster.
at the end of that letter
you wrote wrote wrote "happy midsummer" in finnish
and my heart stuttered, imagining the midnight sun
imagining the midnight sun...
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6. |
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i'm staggering up and down the road
in my friend's clothes that i borrowed
there's a house near my house
that's standing up on stilts
why are they building so many fucking houses
while at the same time cutting down all my favorite trees?
well i hope your goldfish doesn't die
and i hope you figure out why
you keep kissing me, and i keep kissing you
maybe we're friends, maybe we're through...
you want to know
why it was hard for me to go?
re-open those envelopes,
spill the contents out onto the bed,
touch the papers and the thread.
i wanted you to be able to
read between my careful lines
to see my eyes and the way they shined.
you're a tightrope artist,
a trapeze swinger, a contortionist-
you want everyone to bend you, throw you, adore you
well i hate to break it to you but they don't all want to
and i hope your goldfish doesn't die
and i hope you figure out why
you keep kissing me, and i keep kissing you
maybe we're friends, maybe we're through...
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7. |
Paper Cutout Clouds
02:39
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i'm trying to read the paper cut-out clouds
as the view moves
at the pace of a bus
as we go endlessly one way
i see idiots who won't stop
swinging their car keys
on team color strings
this is the emerald city
where the greens, they grin
i'm trying to read the paper cut-out cloud
peaking out there is blue
in an azure hue
and i'm a grasshopper
performing in the park,
drinking in the afternoon
just waiting for the moon
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8. |
Sprinkler Chase
03:50
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at this point in my life
i don't know
what i
really want
so i guess that i
i'll just go
go, go, g-go,
go with the flow
a globe light twitching on and off, a slow strobe at play
sprinklers spray over the path and i duck out of the way
listen to the crackle of getz/gilberto
blue trim, blue hydrangias.
the bus driver is handing out honey sticks
there's fennel seeds in this bread!
these same sketchy blocks i always tread
through the glass door
there's a man with a parrot on his finger
staring into the coffeeshop
sitting next to a crate of watermelons
homemade ice cream with raspberries on top
my birkenstock tan,
my white linen shirt
this is how i choose to become a man.
on the asphalt, a broken ballpoint pen.
the smell of middle school soccer fields.
it feels good to tip generously.
i'm writing stories again,
i'm writing stories again,
i'm writing stories again,
I'M BACK TO THE STACKS
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9. |
Places & Faces
04:25
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i'll go
go to a new place
just so,
so it can become a wrinkle
added to my face
we'll meet up with band
and travel in a hippy van
a dude with the shortest shorts & the crazies of hats
another with entire sleeve of tats
really, most of them have multiple tatoos!
and the girls all have wild hairdos
a grunge guy out of 1993
makes 56 thou doctoring machines
the young gent in pressed trousers
works as a gay dungeon security officer
there are a few i definitely don't know
but i give them sideways hellos
we're with this band in this hippy van,
food everywhere & i think "hey- pass some pasta, man"
i'll go,
go to a new place
just so,
so it can impress upon me, become a wrinkle
added to my face
after a longish breakfast we're riding bicycles all
along the vancouver british columbia sea wall
there are red & white checkered tablecloths outside
every italian restaurant where we hide...
a show in the ukranian center with a fake nice front...
i got away
for 5 whole days
i'll go, go
to new places
so i can take in more and more new faces
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10. |
2007
04:30
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so you want to know what my life has been,
in two thousand and seven?
well i started way up north
livin' with a venuzuelan homo
named Angelo
in french canada where it always snows
and where i'd always wanted to go
there was a bright eyed beauty
on the other end of the phone
i drifted among the old architecture
then slept in a room with no furniture
back to college, back to barns, and colonial dorms
for another term spent getting to know my mind
friends and lovers falling by the wayside
by the time there was mud
my boots had already sunk
i searched in my hometown all through june
for romance under the summer moon
i came outta that with nothing but a plaid tophat
bringing roald dahl to life in the parks in the mornings
i ate a lot of vegetables, i drank a lot of ridiculously good beer
i wrote letters and postcards, i shredded on my old electric guitar
the northwest is where i belong
making zines and making songs
return to new england, to maple syrup and dancing
to strange isolation and constant creating
global warming pissed me off
so did all the kids who talk about williamsburg lofts
this year was a tornado
just going with the flow..
so i watched the new snowflakes blow
and decided to follow...
to the west they blew,
so i flew
back to you
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Advrb Portland, Oregon
Andrew Barton plays, sings, and records as Advrb.
Kellen Hopfner sings with
him.
Josh Bay plays cello and electric piano.
Elisabeth Ryan plays drums.
Joshua James Amberson plays bass.
The band sounds both quiet and loud.
... more
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