1. |
The Line
01:57
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The line is far too long, too long to wait upon. A snaking wave that circles back. Certainly, a trap. The line is, by design, enough to change your mind. Gleaming row of ships receding, far as we can see. Say what you say, the mouth and the teeth, the rockiest beach, the constant roar. Say you want more. Say you want more. Anchored off the shore for twenty days or more, silver bowls of ice cream melt outside your cabin door. When you disembark, remember where you parked. A row of exclamation points idle in the dark. Say what you say, the mouth and the teeth, the rockiest beach, the furthest shore. Say you want more. Say you want more.
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2. |
SWAG
03:14
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Now the popular imagination trolls the Amazon, saves our information. Now our passwords grow with the grassroots, know all the best routes, get to it faster. In our dreams we’re traveling but all our luggage is strewn on the tarmac. Want my bags back! Want my bags back! Trade our tickets for a Coke and a jetpack. Now the popular imagination measures the immeasurable, metrics for the layman. Tabulating views and alarming news, synchronize our moves in the basement. In our dreams we’re in the exit rows slumping over our table-trays like dominoes. Give us feedback! Send a screenshot! Colon bracket, take a 10-minute survey! In our dreams we’re gathering up all the evidence left behind us. It’s a hard drive. It’s a hard drive. Now the popular imagination hates your website redesign. Hates the fonts, it hates the colours; hates the things that it can’t find. In our dreams we’re ravelling but all our stitches are pulling at the seams. Give us patience. Give us grace. Give us peace. Give us space. Give us kindness. Give us light.
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3. |
Ghost Particle
02:20
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Ghost particle, here you are or here you were. You’re a ghost parable, comparable to anyone here. You’re a glitch in our hard drive. The light still blinks but there’s nothing inside, just a ghost paragon to carry on. Is there a special telescope, a distant star to follow you everywhere you are? Ghost article, unparseable, impossible, unspareable, unbearable. Ghost animal, there you are and there you were. You’re a ghost villanelle, parallel to everyone here. You’re a pain in the heartspace. The clock still ticks but we’re walking in place. Just a ghost radio, ecstatic in the stereo. Is there a special telescope, a distant star to follow you everywhere you are? Ghost animal, so terrible and beautiful and mutable. So anyway. Ghost particle, here you are or here you were. You’re a ghost parable, comparable to anyone here.
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4. |
The Rain
03:17
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The sun allows you one apology. The moon forgives you endlessly, but never lets you forget. The rain knows you by name. The sky will never ask you why the earth endures your worst, but never lets you go. The rain will come again, sing you every colour, sweet and plain. What it brings you when it sings to you. What it brings you. When the rain gives way to snow, when the barren branches start to show, you’ll see the clouds beyond their reach. The trees are waving to you. Come and see.
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5. |
The Garden
01:42
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Must explain. I know no different. Must explain. I’ve watched it grow. Fieldstone rocks free for the taking. Ivy from my mother’s home. Where will they go? Stand of cedar offers shelter. Globe hydrangea, spruce and beech. Struggling yew tree at a corner. Two bush roses, pink and peach, underneath thorn and leaf. Life-size statue of a dog. The one at my heels, my dear companion. So many years of love and toil. The creek and the swale, all I imagined. Some odds and ends, a weeping bed. One day at a time.
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6. |
Sisters
03:18
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Teddy’s playing solitaire, yellow curlers in her hair. Do you really wear lipstick to the grocery store? Yes, you do. Maggie is a hard nut to crack, slaps her cards down, hollers, “Wray, you shit!” Feeds the little kittens in the barn at dawn, as you do. Jean is the youngest one, lives in a tall brick house, looks like my mom. Dogs in the driveway wagging, “Bye! Bye! Bye!” As they do. Down to the picnic by the lake, checkered tablecloths and chocolate cake. All these people who laugh like you. Like you do.
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7. |
Pop Bottle Chickadee
01:48
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On a bright blue day I was born to stay, to sing in vain despite her. Underneath this thorny wreath, worn-out teeth creak wider. Cracking up seed, pop bottle chickadee. Cracking up seed, pop bottle chickadee-dee-dee-dee. On a quickening moon, a weather balloon, I was born too soon, born a fighter. In between the leafy green,
picking up steam beside her. Cracking up seed, pop bottle chickadee. Cracking up seed, pop bottle chickadee-dee-dee-dee.
Dedicated to Dave Barber
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8. |
The Eclipse
02:46
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A tree is a child in a schoolyard, red wool stockings, light on her face, glancing up at the camera. The moon is a pale pink smudge, eclipsed by a massive field of stars growing brighter all the time. A held breath becomes a sigh, casts no shadow we can find. We wish for a quiet life. We wish for a sharper knife to single out this perfect night. A tree is a bird with a head start, light upon the snowy sky, growing lighter all the time. A held breath becomes a sigh, casts no shadow we can find. A sigh becomes a sign. A sign becomes a light.
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9. |
Little Crow
03:36
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Here she comes, it looks like rain sending thunder in its place. What do you know? What do you need? The answer’s always: Everything. Oh, little crow, wouldn’t you love to know how far you can go? Once she’s in the door it won’t be long before the next gathering storm. What would you give? What would you take away? The answer’s always: Anything. Oh, little crow, wouldn’t you love to know how far you can go? Now she’s greening up and going strong, dandelion blooming in the lawn, going to seed, leaning into the breeze. Tiny white umbrellas climb the trees. Oh, little crow, wouldn’t you love to know how far you can go?
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10. |
The Wreck
02:58
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The night Raleigh doubled down, the sun fell, the snow rose in slow circles, halos, crows diving over. Sundown, edge of town. Lights on the overpass blink. She hurries past, wind growing colder. There she was, woodsmoke and evergreen. There she was, in the car with me. Slow up the switchback. Smokes and a sixpack. Over the pass at last. Sky on fire. I bank the turn a little late, try my best to compensate. The Ford is a raft, the winding road is a river. There she was, woodsmoke and evergreen. There she was, in the car with me.
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11. |
The Slowest Race
02:54
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Loneliness or rage. Twice the price of appetite. The smallest pain. Cool your heels awhile. Your best defence: drowning your denial. The slowest race, the smallest gain. To lie awake, to keep you safe. So long, so long, so long. You, who I adore, warble in the background more like radio. And all at once, you’re gone; a frozen wave that hangs on far too long. The slowest race, the smallest gain. To lie awake, to keep you safe. The slowest race, the smallest gain. To lie in wait. To see your face. So long, so long, so long.
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12. |
Aquarium
02:34
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There was a time we were nine. Nine gleaming specimens, together we were nine. One narrow floor of moss—this was not home to us, alas. There was a time we were fine. Consoled ourselves by living well. There’s nothing strange in this. We press our heads against the glass. Cold. Clear. Stars. There was a time we were fine.
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13. |
Time
02:17
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We’ve got dirt, we’ve got dirt. We’ve got shovels, piles of dirt. We’ll dig our way down through the roots and clay. We’ve got time, we’ve got time, to move the dirt, to clear our minds. We’ll dig our way down through the restless days. Time is the best of the things we waste. We’ve got work, we’ve got love. Turn the earth and pile it up. We’ll work our way down through the roots and clay. Time is the best of the things we make.
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Christine Fellows Winnipeg, Manitoba
Christine Fellows finds music in sounds we tend to take for granted: the voices of the people we love, the sounds of the spaces we move through as part of our daily lives. Fellows is based in Winnipeg, Canada, where she collaborates with artists from all disciplines to create and produce performance works and recordings. ... more
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