All loosely bound in bundles

Shortly after I died

My sister discovered poems

It sounded as if the streets were running

As sense was breaking through

Decades of arrogance between

A night ago or two

In houses unperceived

Not audible as ours to us

To counteract a knock 

we must keep apart, You there, I here

In this brief tragedy of flesh

While sunrise grows so near

The coffin's lacquer black

But the lining's silk silver

[J'ai deux amours]

On the back of his head

He had another face

Was it a woman's face

or a young girl?

They said to remove it would kill him

So poor Edward was doomed

The face could laugh and cry

It was his devil twin

And at night she spoke to him

of things heard only in hell

They were impossible to separate,

chained together for life.

Finally the bell tolled his doom:

He took a suite of rooms

And hung himself and her

From the balcony irons.

Some still believe he was freed from her...

But I knew her too well.

I'd say she drove him to suicide

and took poor edward to hell.

[T. Waits / K. Brennan]

Homesick Silhouette

Finally I don't mind

Worthless tries at finding something else

Best not talk too loud

You're not as smart as you require of them

Your body breaks

Your needs consume you forever

and with these lies the need to be here together

Funny thing with blood

You try to stand but neither leg's awake

Just this side of love

Is where you'll find the confidence not to continue

Your body breaks

your needs consume you forever

And with these lies the need to be here together.

[Doug Martsch]

O "Show dos Ursos" era lindo.

Herzegovino, attorney, escena d'estim, escena de mort.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold,

My garments all were dank;

Sure I had drunken in my dreams,

And still my body drank.

I moved, and could not feel my limbs:

I was so light - almost

I thought that I had died in sleep,

And was a blessed ghost

And soon I heard a roaring wind:

It did not come anear;

But with its sound it shook the sails,

That were so thin and sere.

* [from "The rime of the ancient Mariner]

Though I could've written those words

If only I had taken the time.

Having not written them words

I come here and make Coleridge's mine.