Get all 21 Doc Pickles releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of STIARS2 by Tigerbomb, The Freedom To Live Rough by Tigerbomb, Tigerbomb * Crickets, Tigerbomb * EGGS!, Tigerbomb * Photobooth, Tigerbomb * Tea and Ices (2019), Tigerbomb * dragon2 (2018), The Jim Storie Juniors * G20 Machine (2018), and 13 more.
1. |
Empty Paths
02:47
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Together we spoke of empty paths, mossy stairs with emerald stone, about as long as our fingers could reach, our hands waited like the sun in parted foggy clouds, moss hung seaset above like incense hung from the clouds.
We were left out in morning dew and we climbed, left us eye to eye, lucking in the empty wind there was nothing down below but mist, the rain it clung to the dust and we moved about in it.
The rain it took our feet, the rain it drew them in, there was nothing grown within.
Together we spoke of empty paths, together we spoke of empty paths.
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2. |
I Have Concerns
03:52
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I have questions, I have concerns, I have questions for which I have concerns. I have pollution of my own making in my mind’s mind in my mind’s eye in all the lights that shine in the night when all the lights are out when dread and fright fight with flight, I get all this from lying in bed, imagine what I’d do instead if I’d just fly? I have concerns, I have concerns, I have concerns, and that burns.
I have an impact in my own words asking for a friend with whom I interact on an all-inclusive basis in my heart of hearts and oh those other parts that span beneath the stars that stretch out like a net across the sky, curving lines and unfixed marks I have concerns, I have concerns, I have concerns, and that burns. I have concerns, I have concerns, I have concerns, and that burns.
I have directions in my absent stead, my vacuous brain an empty vessel, I poured the waters in that I might drink the ways of ocean roads over melted horizons curved back to obscure like the firth, trees on the road, shy dread choppy obstructions like weeds that grow, I have concerns, I have concerns, I have concerns, and that burns.
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3. |
Occupied
03:36
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Keep it simple, make it happen, call a response now they’re clapping and they’ll dance if you demand it, there’s a button on a Casio I just picked it up on Amazon.
Do I borrow this? And do I borrow these thoughts? Has something led me along to this? I’m chasing demons I’m chasing gods. The places where I’d build? I try to dumb it down to fit me in, the daily con to play along to stay fed and alive a sanctuary can’t be found within, the places where I build are occupied. High priests build whole arenas and I can’t even lay a cornerstone, the place I tried to build I built alone but sacrificed unwillingly to get this,
Seeping in and settling my breath it’s all that escapes in different bus routes under tunnels under blankets under covers in the days. I flatten my head, I play along, I whisper in slumber, I don’t and won’t go willing, I won’t go with it, I’ll never lose the game if I refuse to submit. The places where I’d build are occupied, the places where I’d build are occupied. The places where I’d build are occupied, the places where I’d build are occupied.
Do I borrow this? Do I borrow these words? Are these even my own words I sing? Stay ripe but not for long, stay right in the song, I pander to a suit, the suit I’m wearing, the suit I try to fit in, a destitution awaiting. The places where I’d build? There’s no place to build for me. The cornerstone it’s washed away. The places where I’d build are occupied, the places where I’d build are occupied.
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4. |
Trauma-Based Therapy
02:40
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The vacuum of space is actually an ocean of energy you fight to leave. Five minutes ahead of the rest of the world living at liberty for a short time on shore leave. Trauma based therapy, fight to lose, lose to fight, trauma based therapy, fight to lose, this isn’t right.
I thought I knew what kind of vine I’d been grafted on by the kind of fruit that grows amongst the flowers but where I’ve grafted must have come from some other’s powers because you’re such a downer. Trauma based therapy, fight to lose, lose to fight, trauma based therapy, fight to lose, this isn’t right.
There’s always that one who’s gone and leading us on. There’s always that one in a hundred and this could be the one. How could anything like this partake it thinking this could be the one? The knives come out for me, trauma based therapy.
The vacuum of space is actually an ocean, an ocean of energy indeed.
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5. |
June Escapes
02:01
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Way down below that’s where my spirit stops to hibernate, less than good or well, nothing ends up like it could or should. When the muse starts calling that’s when the dull world grows in, nothing can engage you, June escape escapes you.
Dreadful mess, there’s no one that we need to impress. Watch and see, it’ll all turn out so miserably. When the muse starts calling that’s when the dull world grows in, nothing can engage me, June escape escapes me. When the muse starts calling that’s when the dull world grows in, nothing can engage me, June escape escapes me.
Way down below, that’s where my spirit seems to hibernate. Less than good or well, nothing ends up like it could or should.
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6. |
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Waking up to olden days everything’s in disarray the sound of phantom crying injure of a rooftop coo of a pigeon in June out of sight and out of view but singing undertones in tune. Smothering the wrinkled sheets looking like nobody’s wrecked them, sound of love and heart’s remiss, fleeting bliss and then the national anthem, stand erect as a flagpole in this swooning rooftop godforsaken view, being self-aware is not my strongest suit.
Underpinning overused and underutilized clichés we wouldn’t follow the label’s clues if our phantom knew just what to do to pull the levers, hit the buttons, fix the plugs of these reviews. Filling into any size of shoes, strut like a sidewalk token pigeon plume, tripping on the boxes of the pizza’s intersection, set the mind’s eye to the nearest upward slope, slough up to where the trouble’d rather not go, find the hardest road home. Being self-aware is not my strongest suit.
Being self-aware is not your strongest suit, playing the game there’s all sorts of devices, some of which force nothing to a crisis, some make binary choices while others go about in blinders, the neverminders you have to pander to, to dumb yourself down to fit in or destitution awaits, and while I’ve fought off despair, could make a case that I’d won, I found no happiness there, just the self-doubt that comes from being self-aware, but being self-aware is not my strongest suit.
Just standing by this shop that has these flowers, put the work to sheet with care, while flashing lights flash round the corner and the owner comes to see what I’m doing there. (“Hello, owner.”) And how could I explain what I’ve become, what I’ve done, and who I’ve run from? Could I have forced the moment to see inside us? To understand the force that seeks to divide us? Being self-aware is not my strongest suit.
Used to smell like cheese and processed meat in Toronto but now they’re smoking weed in Toronto, the beer factory became a grow-op and Shopper’s/Molson ganged up and tried to get a piece of the herb, that’s the coolest burb in Toronto, not like out in Etobicoke where the argyle grows and the children of the insiders hashing out the plans to tout a beer’s a buck in every checkout underneath anonymously wrapped tobacco packs now discretely mailed in postal outlets and all we’ve done is get a cut and every other river’s mouth ran dry from drinking empty promises and bald-faced lies fanning the fury from his own creation no rest for the wicked Ford Nation rises up but being self-aware was not his strongest suit.
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7. |
X
02:20
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He used his power, he was a creep, but I don’t want to blast him. He’s like a massive grapefruit tree and he’s the biggest one we see in a reach so it seems massive.
Well make a movie you’d imagine a chud exactly like him. Have any second thoughts about this? Because a character like him seems so obvious. He’s the biggest target. Target, target, picking on a big target, target, picking on a big target.
Here’s a mirror, better yet here’s a pair of specs that ain’t been invented yet lets you view the fruit that’s holding up the tree by the roots. The trunk that’s the reason that Harvey let his junk and like a fart from a skunk in a boardroom they all knew, and they let him do what a tree grows it’s fruit to do. But I’m picking on a target, target, picking on a big target. I try to punch up. Target, picking on a big target, you call that a target? I’m looking for wine grapes.
Pick it up pick it up the wine grapes and burn the roots to the root. Pick it up pick it up the wine grapes and burn the roots to the root. Pick it up pick it up the wine grapes and burn the roots too. Target, target, picking on a big target, target, picking on a big target.
What’s the point of having power if you’re not a creep? What’s the point of being the biggest tree if you can’t drop your fruit wherever you imagine you want it to? You want to buy an aeroplane and fly it around where you want it to? That makes you a target and I like to punch up, I pick on a big target. Target, target, picking on a big target, target, picking on a big target. You call that a Target, target, picking on a big target? You’re a big old grapefruit.
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8. |
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From the tee to the green a registry of all that we’ve seen, it’s a lot but it’s not what we’ve come to see and now we’ve begun to open up our hearts and to let in the sun. Away through the glen comes the howl of the tetherball hound who waits for the friend that he’s lost between the tee and the green.
Now there’s another bus by to try to lead us from the wilds to the city, from the worship to pity, rumbling through the stout little trees in the golfer’s breeze, and with our hooks and our slices we’ll return to the house for tea and ices but no amount of laces or tables can replace this wayward green from the tee to the green. It’s a much better scene, a fancy love from the tee to the green.
Away through the glen comes the howl of the tetherball hound who waits for the friend that he’s lost between the tee and the green.
It’s an innocent traipse to rush along as winter falls down we’ll try to build, we’ll try to build us a hut and a home with a beautiful sound. But with our hooks and our slices we’ll return to the house for tea and ices but no amount of laces or tables can replace this wayward scene from the tee to the green, it’s a much better scene, fancy love, aplomb from the tee to the green.
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9. |
Hunters' Ways
01:56
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My dad he’d polish up a gun go get a duck to eat, even brought a dog to bring back the duck. But pen to paper on my road, that’s my weapon, I retrieve and chase the words in a fog. I hunt the hunter’s ways, I hunt with hunter’s means.
At least he could have taught me how to hunt because gathering up the words is alien to me, get out of the bullseye and fly, the least we have done is really try. I hunt with hunter’s ways, I hunt with hunter’s means.
That’s why the hunt gleams in my eyes, shoes and both sneakers and heels cast aside on the highway underneath in one expressway beneath ungainly towers of condominiums babbles of wifi then the shoes from the balconies, what did they celebrate in a shirt I had no business being in? I hunt the hunter’s means, I hunt the hunter’s ways, the least I could have done is really try.
When there’s no one else can come along, and there’s nobody to hurt by my dog, to shoot or deafen is my definite weapon.
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10. |
Rovers Return
03:15
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Corrie, Coronation Street, it’s a show I used to watch, Oh that Coronation Street, it’s a show I watched too much of.
It came on on a Sunday they’d played a week of shows at once, the show was unavoidable to all of us living in the land without cable walking through their cautionary fables of a working class Rorschach returning all to the Rovers to the bar. Corrie, Coronation Street returning all the Rovers to the bar. Corrie, Coronation Street, it’s a show I used to watch, Oh that Coronation Street, it’s a show I watched too much of.
A funeral of truth clearing out the old growth, we’d emotional connect at dawn and by lunch I’d mourn their loss. I knew all their names, I’d even picked up the accent but finally I’d had it when I dressed like Steve MacDonald and I went to the laundromat to try to get my clothes washed and I looked into the mirror. Oh. Corrie, Coronation Street, it’s a show I used to watch, Oh that Coronation Street, it’s a show I watched too much of.
For my partner it was almost worse she picked up the Tracey Barlow curse with the fangs and the deep claws shredding lives like they were puppets. I’d rather kick the bucket than go on like Ken did though, my faux pas all seem so irrelevant next to the coronating that I know with all of the foibles that I saw up and down the street where they died left and right if they weren’t contracting a case of teen pregnancy. Corrie, Coronation Street, it’s a show I used to watch, Oh that Coronation Street, it’s a show I watched too much of.
Never get attached to any other street but life on the street you live on now or you’ll never get it right, you’re doomed to repeat in a soul-destroying repeat lies aired six months ago in the united hindsight and the cable though I’d cut it it’s cliché, I’d applied it to my own life though outright but the bit part on the show on a channel to which I never subscribed, that was my life then, it`s not a repeat, it`s the actual street.
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11. |
List
03:40
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These are the things that I can do without: If you don’t like it gonna figure it out, I took a minute to inflict this list, if you don’t like it it’s a list of things I don’t care for in song. We are the levers of power, our minds are the means of production.
Pistol whipped my sensibilities, the sort of trick to knock me to my knees, the sort of thing that you would have to do some sort of cleaning if I said it to you. There’s more to this than I know, there’s no speed limit fast or slow.
Words in formation how I thought them up, not one is weighted out or up above, I’ll say the list it’s what I’m born to do, but first a preparation song for you. Now that I think of it the list it’s short, to make a list a song’s a tired trope, the best of fencers they keep their foils in, I think I’m going to take the list I’m going to sit on it or better I’m going to take that list and I’m going to eat it! I’m going to devour the list like the whale of Jonah did, consume it like Cronus. It’s just a list it’s such a downer, I cannot list it I can’t do it, I could just keep quiet rob it of it’s power, so say goodbye to the list ta ta, bye bye. Too many breaks and you’ll never reach Guelph.
The road has never been my enemy, trying to scale the dishonest peaks at the fork in the road to Guelph we go, split the distance and then squeeze between the two streams. Oh I did and I wrote this list, I brought it with me, and now there’s nothing in it.
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12. |
You Don't Mind If Me Do?
03:20
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Could've run out at dawn and gone on, you could have never returned, but I'm the one who got burned, woke up now what have I got on? You don't mind if me do split with you? I've got to get an excuse.
I'm a cowardly cog — oh, go on! — you could, too, get out into space, least of all out of this place if you set a mind to it you can do it all, you don't mind if I fall? You don't mind if I do? You don't mind if me do split with you? I've got to get an excuse.
In to make it up and get made, I've got appointments to keep yeah like giving out this demo tape, I'm also out late getting meself a latte, I've got to go for some chemo fundraiser I'm a roofraiser, you don't mind if me do split with you? I've got to get an excuse.
Cos I'm brave enough to face you, I could've run out at dawn and defaced you and gone on one way trips to different scripts and parted ways by breakfast. You don't mind if me do split with you? I've got to get an excuse.
In to make it up and get made I'm a cowardly egg and you don't mind if I do? I've got lies that could shoot up into space, and you don't mind if I shoot this in the face? You could never have returned but you did, got back into bed before breakfast. Woke up now and what am I next to? This. Well you don't mind if me do split with you? I've got to get an excuse.
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13. |
Ocean Away
02:07
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The further away the more I miss you, you’re just an ocean away. Further on down the highway our paths will cross again, couldn’t write a country song to save my life. Wasting away most of the day drifting in and out of my daydreams hopeless to stay the price that you pay never to burn all the goodwill and happiness selling away in my soul every day never to win an ounce of achievement, so glad to say it’s not every day, it’s not every day that you see it that way.
They say that time will heal what hurts you, that picture looked so much better in black and white, I dull my pain with pills and whisky, they should have made a sequel to that film. Wasting away most of the day drifting in and out of my daydreams hopeless to stay the price that you pay never to burn all the goodwill and happiness selling away in my soul every day never to win an ounce of achievement, I’m so glad to say it’s not every day, it’s not every day that you see it that way.
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14. |
My Automobile
03:16
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That’s a toneless apology it’s true but that’s just how I feel, like mixing it up when I get behind the wheel, it’s not a secret that I can’t somehow reveal, and then we’ll both ride home in my automobile. (And then we’ll both ride home in my automobile!) That’s right.
It’s not my song that I recall the lyrics to but it’s something they denied they ever got in to, it’s a sedan of a song left out for me to steal and then we’ll both ride home in my automobile. (And then we’ll both ride home in my automobile!) And then we’ll both ride home in my automobile.
I’m not above a certain theft when the hook of life is in the steal, but I can get behind to give it back if you too feel that you respect the hook enough to set it free for real and then we’ll both ride home inside of my sweet automobile. (And then we’ll both ride home in my automobile!) And then we’ll both ride home in my automobile.
In any other context I could drive off with a squeal and enter into the land of puny tools who kneel but I tipped a boat and captivated an earnest keel and we’ll both drive home in my sweet automobile.
If you’ll be good to me then I’ll be good to you and then we’ll both drive home in my automobile. If you’ll be good to me then I’ll be good to you and we’ll both drive home in my automobile. If you’ll be good to me then I’ll be good to you and then we’ll both ride home in my automobile. In my automobile, in my automobile, If you’ll be good to me then I’ll be good to you and then we’ll both drive home in my automobile. (and then we’ll both drive home in my automobile!) and then we’ll both drive home in my automobile.
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15. |
Destruction
02:31
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Rock and Roc both do a croak a murder of crows from the great below, Rock and Roc both do a croak a murder of crows from the great below. Destruction doing what destruction does, death has no reason but to each a season. What red dragon slouching comes? An ancient evil I can’t possibly reason, mockingly on a horse from the east, a chalk horse, a war horse, and ancient season!
Rock and Roc both do a croak a murder of crows from the great below, Rock and Roc both do a croak a murder of crows from the great below. You’ve done all you could do, you did what a man’s supposed to, you’ve done it all wrong you’re still all alone with a song. I went through the histories and pled for an Ottomanesque extension, I thought I’d at least get into it if not to find redemption but I, I don’t want it all, I wouldn’t place a call from the crow’s claw.
This is begging the question: Once I get into it in a fit of pique when I take a peek and I find wanting, what I was close to, the wrong epoch of time and guarantees of space belong, a deluge of the right kink in the lengths of time between strikes of an asteroid rock? and Roc both do a croak a murder of crows from the great below, Rock and Roc both do a croak a murder of crows from the great below.
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16. |
New Dishonesty
02:55
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Take the escalator up and sit on a planter. The tree inside is very sick. Along the street there stand a handful of planters where the city finally gave up on it leaving little dead stumps in a box full of dirt. But the city is broken so they haven't gathered the green that they need to acquire a new tree, they spent a lot of greenery to prop the sickest trees up with metal bars but if there's no growth behind to choke on the fumes of cars you get a new dishonesty.
It seems to me so strange to think that these trees can all be squarely shaped in concrete planters of stone and concrete. This coffee it just doesn't have enough sugar in it but the coffee shop it's three floors underground! And I'd feel unstable going up to the dressing table and grabbing a packet of sugar. I'd have to hold up my cup to my chest invest like a backstage pass displaying it like I was meant to come in and just take this sugar and not stand in a line to be too much of a pain in the end so I'll settle for bitter coffee this new dishonesty.
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17. |
That's Life On Earth
03:26
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That’s life on Earth under the stars, when we looked up we dropped our jaws.
We left the house to meet a friend at 4am and waited in the park for the universe but got sunrise instead playing on the swings and laying in the grass but we left before the morning dew set on our clothes. That’s life on Earth under the stars, when we looked up we dropped our jaws.
We left the parties early to go find us some ice cream then we returned once the guests had left we watched our friends get kicked out and we offered them our hands. That’s life on Earth under the stars, when we looked up we dropped our jaws.
They lean on their car horns, they lean into their elbows, spill drinks on their neckties, and somehow they blame it on us.
We remember the shrill advice and pretend to be deaf, lips were moving soundlessly as we rounded out the fuzzy edges of what we thought we knew, then we dropped our jaws, let out a gasp, watched blurry hands summon angels from the drums and the wires of the mustang amps.
We’ve mouthed the words to the Tubby in a cool creole speaking pigeon in our minds. We’ve left work early to make homemade snack food and watch Melrose reruns with volume turned down and the Bacharach’s played where the line read words should have been and that’s what life was underneath all the stars and that. That’s life on Earth under the stars, when we looked up we dropped our jaws.
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18. |
The Holy Fail
04:21
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Broken down buildings, broken down dreams, I’ll be in my newest shirt and probably wearing jeans. I’m trying to get to bed by one I’m trying to eat my greens, trying not to stand out if I’m out and unseen. This might seem ungainly to you but I’ve nothing left to lose so if you won’t encourage me at least get off my shoes.
If your interest is only in destruction then take it someplace else ‘cos isn’t a blast when all there is is what you love. You could love if you could ‘cos isn’t that the sickness with it’s own cure? Wrote it out it might sound strong but it sticks it to it’s business. ‘Cos isn’t it a cure-all when all you do is set it down in stone? Put it down, all your mistakes and flaws, splayed out dead-end lost causes
laid out for all the world to see, and all they do it pass by. I didn’t lose a thing but I still get to sing for a spell in this gloom of this groaning world I’m inhabiting on with you for as long as the spinning holds true, and isn’t it the worst to know the words you meant when all you need to do’s exist?
It’s all you’ll ever need to do: Just be who you are right about now, drink it in, tell the tale, holy fool to the holy fail, it’s the sickness that makes good and it delivered what you put down in the stone for all to see that all pass by, all riders, all walking-sticks, and commuters, and trespassers, and stones skinned with gasses in space where we live and we die in the massive spinning blink of an eye here where we are at rest next to a star binding and combining time… Broken down buildings, broken down dreams, I’ll be in my newest shirt, probably wearing jeans.
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19. |
Under The Mistletree
03:03
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I looked over again but I couldn’t spy the star. Swear it had hung there this time the night before it shone on and into the star that it was next to, I swear you’d be waiting for me under the mistletree.
It was over and on me in tune all above and in tune true to me, if it had a name I surely would have learned it, I’ve sought it out on charts and appointed apps. Under the mistletree I thought you’d be waiting for me
but out in my yard I sought the star like I’d sought it out each time before when I needed to know for sure it was really something that happened to me. It shone on in tune I’ve seen it shine over us on the place where we kissed on the bridge. I thought you’d be waiting for me
under the mistletree. I saw the star, I saw it shine, I saw the sign, I knew it shone over me to stay fixed to it true. In the end, up ahead, what’s a spot in the stitch? A speckle that nobody’d miss, except were it not for that kiss.
It was over and on me in tune attuned true to us in tune, I’d sought it out in charts and appointed apps that let you zoom in as eggs to Mars like it was a backyard. I swore you’d be waiting for me but in my yard sought the star
under the mistletree I’d sought it out each time before when I needed to know for sure it was really something that happened to me. The star that’s gone that shone, that’s how I knew it was true, it shone above me and you, we kissed on that bridge, under the star, under the mistletree.
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20. |
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Still here, still waiting, still here. Still here, still waiting, still here. I’ve walked along this bank of snow a thousand times, it had appeared and reappeared every year I walked to school outside. Not once did I or any of the kids I knew walk side by side with anybody they knew, always walking in single file in silence.
Still waiting, still here. The sun it rose a few feet up over the top of the ridge that spanned the height of land across the valley where red pines covered up the sky where the ravens sit on telephone poles and chimneys and huddled there in silence, waiting for something to run out of air, or for the garbage cans to be put out like they have for tens of thousands of years. Still waiting, still here.
Sometimes they’d call to each other “We’re still waiting, still here, still here.” They watched me go to school, looking for signs of fatigue. It was a deathly chill outside, nothing moved about me and all the air lost it’s vigour.
(It lay there suspended beneath the trail of children walking to school as they breathed out in vapour trails that dragged behind as they walked on paths on the snowbank Every skid in my town spends half their waking lives like this, walking alone to school in the winter that’s how we’ve become so quiet. We’ve spent too much time outside forgotten how to talk to figure out how long we’ve been outside. We’ve forgot what we do where we go where we’ve been ooh)...
Still here, still waiting, still here. Still here, still waiting, still here. Still here, still waiting, still here. Still here, still waiting, still here.
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21. |
Sweet View, Starman
04:12
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Sweet view, starman, but don’t you get the feeling you’ve been here before? Up taking pictures in the vacuum of space, I might not get my body to rise but I still can extend up there with my brain. Never felt oh so alone than when I’m sitting on some titan’s throne looking back below it’s a blue stone, home to everyone I’ve ever known. Sweet view, starman, you’ve been around here before down to the ground, sweet view, starman.
Down in the gobsmack it’s the sound of the air, a Martian breeze against a probe in an atmosphere that is neither there nor here, filling air back home with black coal, there’s a stone that was led out it dead and died a long time ago, let’s hope we don’t have to back up there starman you’ve been there before. Sweet view, starman, you’re uncertain evermore. Sweet view, starman, the light’s as curved as my words. Sweet view, starman, there’s a sculpture.
This is a sculpture of time meeting space, I couldn’t change or leave it, the least I can do is embrace it but this is not my time and I’m absolutely sure that I’m in the wrong place. Sweet view, starman, you’ve been there before, Sweet view, starman, uncertain evermore, Sweet view, starman, you’ve been there before, Sweet view, starman, uncertain por favor.
This is a sculpture of time meeting space, I couldn’t change or leave it, the least I can do is embrace it but this is not my time and I’m absolutely sure I’m existing in the wrong space. Sweet view, starman, you’ve been here before, sweet view starman. Stand up as you enter the chamber of space starman, sweet view starman, but the light’s as curved as my words. Sweet view, starman, did you ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated? Once your oxygen’s gone and it’s all been depleted don’t you get the feeling that you’ve been here before, Starman? Sweet view, starman, you’re enchanted that you’re stranded in these big circles. Sweet view starman, this is a gravity ankle chain, I have one too, ideas they have no weight but Teslas do. And if you don’t like it we’ll throw another one up where we’ve been before.
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22. |
Unusual Roads
03:54
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Tried to get to your house on unusual roads, none were straightforward so we took the roads that had lightening. Got to your building and entered the most discrete door, when we arrived we acted aloof but we’d been fighting. Unusual roads lie clear and they blow wherever they need to go, make their own road, go where they go on unusual roads and incidental streets the muttering retreats’ indifference of ecclesiastical feats in the east at the least of repeats the inkling aware and actual seeds and annual roses and grandmother’s garden that smelled of sweet summer
And tamarac sap in easier lanes where there were no fences just junctioned estates that buttressed the cold in effervescent droves in places where waves of sweet cinder wash over the tinder to stop this from lightening the ways of the wave in any ancient day chart the sun’s arrays of forbearance in grave desperation retreats the least of the worries and cast it aside as it resides in the mind of a stranger and wandered off aimless to leave me in space just to brace at the wave plant feet and renege to allow what was meant to blow through strummed depths of the increment orchestra out on unusual roads to the same destination the straightest roads go.
I’d love to take you on that trip to Holland but I just don’t want to go there alone. What sort of tulip grows alone? Tulips grow in bunches out in Holland, they make the most unusual roads, we should take the most unusual roads.
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23. |
Bison Horns
03:15
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Bison horns, desert winds, in four windswept directions. Each leads a different way to a new reality. First one step, there are two of them and then to a third, just a few steps embarked, there’s no turning back now. I’ll never know the truth unless you ask it of me, my breath it escapes in a cloud I cannot see. I’ll never know the truth, I’m not so sure if I need to, it knocked forsaken wind right out of me.
Walking in introspection a labyrinth to a cool bench, thoughts stray and I see petunias and exotic flowers. Think waywardly worldly and learnédly and that burnéd me I did not see the truth that I did seek, I’ll never know the truth unless you ask it of me, the wall it gives way to a corridor no creature’s ever seen. I’ll never know the truth, I’m not so sure if I need to, there aren’t even any spidery webs on the ceiling over me.
Food ran out and I know that rescue it will not come, I let myself get reborn nonetheless. I hope to wipe my memories of your presence because you were the first one I asked for when I awoke, and then I thought of your sandy shoes and your windswept hair out in the sand somewhere it could be anywhere. I write poems and I smell flowers, I stand up to powers, we’re not much different anymore are we? I’ll never know the truth unless you ask it of me but how stubborn as an ox in repose was me, the silence in your presence. I’ll never know the truth, not so sure if I need to, lamp-lit through the night and pushed on into day, no other way but the ley lines in a maze.
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24. |
Voice Communication Test
03:49
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Daisy’s underfoot and if you don’t find her dangerous you’d never let your kids be like here even though you’d like to be. She can be most anyone, we don’t need to be too much, we’ve spent the best years of our lives here. Daisy clutched the pens, Daisy pounded tables upon completion of the voice communication test, cat-calling for an encore, there never was one. She’s imbued a power to answer questions on to other so as to free us up to come up with more questions and they think it’s out of respect. We’ve driven ourselves mad with hungers and every day we ask ourselves if we’ve made a mistake forsaking cars for bikes and money for freedom and follows the ways she leads us on, to follow
Daisy’s underfoot and if you don’t find her dangerous you’d never let yourself be like her even though you’d like to be. She can be most anyone, we don’t need to be too much, we’ve spent the best years of our lives here. She won Ray over bit by bit then they moved to Hammer mountain wondering why we don’t believe them, why we won’t give weighty issues or sour opinions a second thought. She’s lamented the loss each time Ray crosses the floor, joins the flock over second pitcher but she’d wish him well and prepare a place for his return like a father to a prodigal son knowing secretly that once you’ve arrived you must abandon all hope of ever prying yourself free from her knowing in silence that defectors all return on their own accord to
Daisy’s underfoot and if you don’t find her dangerous you’d never let your mirror reflect her even though you’d like to see. She can be most anyone, we don’t need to be too much, we’ve spent the best years of our lives here. Well, it’s really hard for people of my age, she began, but Ray answered back and her face lit up in a flash of lost light. Hardly! Hardly! Oh you kids you’re so much fun and I love it! We didn’t cringe at all as she joined us at the table her busload of travelers left behind in a formal setting of restaurant dining where they dined without Daisy shining under
Daisy’s underfoot and if you don’t find her dangerous you’d never get caught flipping off her even though you’d like to be. She can be most anyone, we don’t need to be too much, we’ve spent the best years of our lives here.
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25. |
Best Intentions
05:24
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Roads made with the best intentions, self-help books with no directions at all. Clap some more, we might come back to entertain you with our greatest hits and misses, go on, clap some more.
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26. |
Homily Hominy
05:37
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Homily hominy we’re writing poetry about airplanes, homily hominy, they’re so bright they’ve got these covers of lights, Homily hominy, Homily hominy,
I guess the reason why they wrote the Ode to the Nightingale and the homily to the hominy: the bird could fly where we failed, and it had a beautiful voice, and it looked a little dull but it was the choice. Homily hominy, Homily hominy,
I contemplate taking the bus to the limits of the city to the hominy but there’s a new expressway built north of the reaches and I can’t reach this:Where the light would be there suspended in the air and the comet would still be beautiful but there’s no dark spot in the air. A million people sprawl out around me north and east and west about me the lake it’s to the south, that’s where I saw the moon last night, the planets are all to the south; but the comet it’s shy, and it hides in the north, and I feel slighted.
There’s a big park to the west of here and if I fast enough walk I might get there before the comet sets. In the park I find a tobogganing hill all slick with ice, I put my magazine on a patch of ice halfway up the hill and I sit on my own device. The view it’s like a ring of bare branches nesting out on the trunks of trees framing the comet and the comet glows in the middle, nods politely at me in the homily hominy.
Bring a gun to a knife fight, bring a gun to a knife fight, bring a gun to a knife fight, rock fight! Rock fight! Bring a gun to a knife fight, bring a gun to a knife fight, bring a gun to a knife fight, rock fight! Rock fight! Bring a gun to a knife fight, bring a gun to a knife fight, bring a gun to a knife fight, rock fight! Rock fight!
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Doc Pickles Toronto, Ontario
Tigerbomb are Emmet Rogan and Hugh Allen with Doc Pickles. From Toronto. Yeah.,
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