Bay of PigsI’m trying to leave you alone
But deep into my head you roam
Like a sick buffalo
Separated from the herd
Looking lost at every turn
You’re following the migration
Of geese
Centralia, PAPennsylvania 61
Through the very heart for some
Where industry has long been gone
Looks like any old abandoned town
It looks like any other place
Forgotten and left to waste
Its residents have long been chased
Away
English IvySomeone is calling psychics on the phone at 3 am
The future runs through the telephone wires
Sitting in a rain cloud on the fire escape
Waiting for the building to burn
Steel head and black mouth packed up in the fishing nets
Emptied in the sluice then airborne in the news
The salt gets in your skin and preserves a feeling
False FloorsJust come close now
Walk across the water in your path
The surface will hold
At the shore you'll find my arms around you
And why it's hard
To believe that there's a reason to believe
I would rather fall through false floors
Than play a statue standing guard
Hummingbirdhummingbird, come to my window
I want to know what you know
I've heard it said: "if you don't like the rain you'll be bored and you'll feel low"
but I don't mind the rain
and things are always the same
Shoulder to Shoulder Around the FireWell I haven't been sleeping all that well
My mind is a constant carousel where the horses run wild
Until the boardwalk ends
Each one has a rider and I think I know them
These faces familiar, with eyes so deep
Like craters or novels or instinct
I tell them my troubles; all of my cold conflicts
The Blackberry MoonComing down on the thorny hill
Spinning through the color wheel
It takes so long to understand
You can't hold on to everything
My father used to bring me
In the waning summer days
When the vines were heavy with blackberries