Lyrics
>cello.Pull(A dark orb turns high
Into the night sky)
>cello.Pull(Its skin floats and bubbles)
>cello.Pull(Laughter reverberating a ghostly echo)
>cello.Pull(All things speaking all)
>cello.Pull(Time taken)
>cello.Pull(In the shadows of scholarship debates ad infinitum)
>violin.Pull(but never quite arriving at anything just)
>violin.Pull(Stretching out along the surface as some)
>violin.Pull(Taught skein)
>viola.Pull(And the Poets'
Attempts to communicate with it)
>viola.Pull(Ultimately fail
As they must)
>viola.Pull(Late at heart, and out to sea)
>viola.Pull(Finally understanding only the dull murmur)
>viola.Pull(of blood ringing in the ears)
>viola.Pull(or the loves we bare to death)
>viola.Pull(All of time)
>viola.Pull(enough space)
>viola.Pull(In the vastness of hidden measure)
>viola.Pull(Perhaps misread
As a challenge, in the first)
>viola.Pull(To all mankind)
>viola.Pull(Impossibly so)
>violin.Pull(And yet
We sleep unto the dust)
>violin.Pull(Pouring into cities as if)
>violin.Pull(They awaited)
>violin.Pull(Only the long rain of souls)
>violin.Pull(As the dead sleep sound)
>violin.Pull(As winter)
>violin.Pull(And rise by the snow's first white)
>violin.Pull(Is it the rummager that finds love
In the burden of love?)
>violin.Pull(An old chicken bone set back in some drawers)
>violin.Pull(A letter to ma)
>violin.Pull(Scraps of cloth too small to count)
>violin.Pull(A metal shell
In the frighteningly beautiful armoire)
>violin.Pull(The basement pipes condensate and)
>violin.Pull(dripping
All at once
At the convergence of some sacred force)
>cello.Pull(Does it still hold
That character of stillness?)
>cello.Pull(Can the rifle bare it?)
>cello.Pull(All its life
Cold and irresolute)
>cello.Pull(That same dark indefinite personality)
>cello.Pull(Buried deep within the muzzle)
>cello.Pull(As an orchid might fold into darkness)
>cello.Pull(To preserve itself)
>cello.Pull(Deafeningly soft to the birds taken flight)
>cello.Pull(Gone west)
>cello.Pull(A boy in the stillness of tall yellow grass)
>cello.Pull(And what he pockets is just the words of it,
However brief)
>cello.Pull(Childhood in November)
>cello.Pull(The ducks out on the lake)
>cello.Pull(The smell of his father's hand)
>viola.Pull(Each detail too distant from the others)
>viola.Pull(To grasp in totality)
>viola.Pull(His red parka billowing)
>viola.Pull(His scarf and mittens buttoned by ma)
>viola.Pull(All those years ago)
>viola.Pull(Still holding somehow)
>viola.Pull(His tiny steps)
>violin.Pull(An infinite trek
Along the sandwiched glass of night)
>violin.Pull(Each incandescent winking out)
>violin.Pull(Behind him as)
>violin.Pull(He descends the convex edge each)
>violin.Pull(Moment as if blown by some dithering wind)
>violin.Pull(Or trembling light of dream, or time)
[anti-folk shrill, bad singer]
pale night rings out
whispers bricks from their houses
white noise as a quilt as
another crunch of a boot tip
on the asphalt creases of your palm
which I can relate to because
I am your dinner tray
sitting in the window late at night
when it's closing time and the cooks are calling out Spanish phrases in laughter
brown eyed bricks which whisper
which weathered trees
name you a fingertip in boots
one foot after the
other
the corn of the palm
[anti-folk shrill, bad singer]
