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Last Recording (of Man to Mother over Invalid Brother Before Natural Disaster)

from Quit by Other Families

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lyrics

Clean up, get still. Get ready.
That hurricane heart of hers
is coming. You don’t know
who named her but that vast
media ocean, or that salt ocean,
where she’s stirring
with the name of a girl.
The sound of that whirlpool
flirting with song
before you,
prior to you,as if
her own back-
story.


On the way to the hospital I thought
a left signal was a nebula blinking blots

of dark over the moon-shine,
the highway hyphened its lines

spinning too fast. Yes.
Yes spinning too fast.

I love the

scent of a hospital.
It makes me feel

like I’m crawling backinto that
pre-natal state assigned state of mind.

The flood a mother drug
they try to take back their names from.

All this time I spent in a green room,
the window’s light bruising the wall to blue.

Before the flood comes, and the world walks in,
I’ll kill him dead if I have to.

I guess that I should get going.
Tell my mother I did all I could.

The water opening his mind to
wider than surgeons can sew.

Well I want to say,

Want to say that I love you.
I can’t say, I can’t say that I love you.

You know I

want to say
want to say that I love you.
I can’t say,
I can’t say that I love you.

You know that it’s too late, so I’ll stay,
the water rising like an awful

pulse instead of the pulse turning like a highway.
I will say till I can’t be trusted anymore.


After the flood we lined bodies up on the ground.
Come back to atrophy house,

read dust like eyeshadow on
the plywood of boarded up windows,
seaweed dangling like Christmas lights
from the rain-trough.

Imagine you,
before it all, under that light bulb that is,
if you’ll believe it, still there,whole as
an inverted skull glued to the ceiling.
Flies, since or prior, have died in the light cover, propped in the corner,animals have made their homes here and that’s admirable.
Turning it on,
the knotted bulb
at the end of the pull string responds,
breaking the bulb and the knot of it filament—
I feel dumb here, watching a bedroom mirror’s ripple reflect the blast radius of a boshane skull

in this placid frame like a straw
swivelling in the stirred drink
of the rabid anatomist,
to whom your head’s a grenade.

credits

from Quit, released February 25, 2012

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Other Families Toronto, Ontario

Experimental DIY arts collective.
We are self-made, self-produced and we've independently released everything we've put out.

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