No Tangles. Guaranteed.

Mostly coiled like a morally-compromised copperhead who seems to be debating the instinct to strike, but more like a garden hose knotted just enough to reduce the pressure so that when something happens to it, the slightest of touches, the simplest of thoughts in the wrong direction even, the whole coiled mass comes alive in an explosion of cold water over everything and everything else.

“In this world, the most remarkable things are the little things, the heart in your chest, the books on your shelf,” my neighbors explain, “and when a neighbor doesn’t return a borrowed book, and you can’t buy a replacement, you may just have to buy another book instead. Maybe you’ll loan out that book out in the future, along with countless others, and you should hold out hope that you’ll get back some of them. But sometimes, with the precious things, just tucking them away in a freezer is enough to avoid loaning out things you someday want returned.”

I was able to stand the cold water for far longer than my neighbors, but I think most of my neighborhood has forgotten cold water exists at all.

No Tangles. Guaranteed.

Anne Boyer – Freedom

https://anneboyer.substack.com/p/freedom?utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email&utm_source=copy

“In the deadly free-unfreedom of capitalism, and in the false freedom arranged by the social media billionaires, the people have brought their real bodies to the real streets in a protest against intolerable conditions and in demand of real freedoms, like the righteous one not to be murdered for being black. They have been met with maga-hatted reactionaries yelling “Freedom,” met, too, with federal stormtroopers fully armed as if what the United States needs to become “great” is a violent occupation of our cities by the military of the United States. Statues and monuments have more value to the government than the life or well-being of its subjects — America lets freedom ring, I guess, for all statues that are free to stand free of spray paint while its people are detained.”

Anne Boyer – Freedom

Halfway through, or more, and looking backwards

In my favorite photos, you’re always smiling
and in the dreams I wake to remember,
you’re quick to hold my hand,
but then, somewhere in the liminal space,
I feel the pillow and you letting me go…

I never used to forget so many things.
Many numerous things.
So very many numerous things
     before I even realized
          what was being lost.

Intestinal things.
The only place
where I can think
about the things
is under warm water.

Celestial and eternal things.
umerous things.
s things.
gs.
.

Halfway through, or more, and looking backwards

Astronomy without knowing we’re made of stardust

There was a sky of waning moonlight
and a half-filled brandy bottle.

There were cigarettes without filters
and smoke obscured your sultry eyes.

We wrote our names in nightlight,
waiting for the end of time.

We stayed up late together.
We considered all there is.

We took each other everywhere.
*************
We ate the food of our ancestors and the raw meat devolved us.
*************
*************
We lived like feral animals.
*************
*************
*************
We lost our every language;
*************
*************
*************
*************
*************
**************************that means we lost the words for love.

Slowly, we returned ourselves.

But didn’t there used to be a waning moonlight?
Didn’t there used to be heavenly bodies?

Astronomy without knowing we’re made of stardust

Don’t Seal the Book of Love, Daniel

and now I dream of hugging strangers,
of stumbling towards a blind embrace,
of touching anyone for pleasure –

it’s just a dreamy moment,
seemed impossible when I wrote it,
yet happysad to be within it –

to only sit still and remember:
i’ve not been more fulfilled then when
i have been with everybody i have ever known –

this whole world –

now I’m having trouble dreaming
what without will finally be like
so taking time to reconsider
everyone’s favorite love poems,
and finding masterpieces
of such sweet misunderstandings.

Don’t Seal the Book of Love, Daniel

Gettin’ Home

Oh, man,

It’s like we’re driving
with our eyes closed,
flying down the highway
with no plans for gettin’ home
safe and sound

I never was a wild child
Kept my thoughts to myself
Liked to talk to funny girls
But mostly watched everyone else

Oh, man,

I ain’t got no experience
living life quite like this
And I ain’t got no innocence
after living life like this

Like driving with our eyes closed
and our hands up in the air,
gambling lives along the freeway
with no hopes for gettin’ home
safe and sound

Gettin’ Home

More Fun With Charlie Zero

Earlier this year, C0 and I collaborated on some words and sounds.

We liked the results so much, we decided to put some more tracks together and – well – now we’ve got an EP out for you to dig on.

The name of the project is Sleep Sigil. The EP is entitled Hogwash Curses and you can listen to that mofo from your internet-connected device over at Bandcamp: https://sleepsigil.bandcamp.com/releases

Sleep Sigil

Let us know what you think. We’re excited to share the work with you.

More Fun With Charlie Zero