there is a moment overflowing
when a passing breeze
fills
the leaves
and the tree sways embracing the air
and it is too big, too good
too much
billowing branches
following, straining, holding, reaching
and
releases
stretching out to the passing air feeling
and quivering rests
remembering

hold and release this world too much for us
everywhere too much
and yet my fingers follow
reaching and grasping
for
memories of moments
beyond me swept

i decided to strangle my reservations and it wasn't that hard- so here's a recording of a project i like to call Liquid Meter and the Leaky Quartet. it's a raw recording with my neighboorhood noises (i think a few chirps).

the lyrics are as such:

death be kind and ignore all my crying. i know you got a lot of pleas but replace my old ones for these. come when you may and tell my mother i sent you away. death be kind forget me

...

i gave it a title so it's called cherry in the well

there are a lot of versions of this song i hope i can one day really reify it

alright, see ya

 i ache for the constant thumpthump of my heels on the concrete and an industrial, impersonal exhaustion and the verb of my eye with my fingers and my camera. i miss seeing things that bend my mind and make me stop and itch and ask what the hell the point is. new light, domestic abuse, falling houses and piles of salt. i liked all the angles of the narrow-walled galleries and the expensive coffee. i liked the nightly drinks and time spent with professors. old crow and cards and walking into a room of glossy-eyed philosophers. closer.

 she likes making lives out of dead things.

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