Lyrics

9am on the Dot Clock

Fixed in urgency and tumbling on the wink of volumes proferred
I escaped momentarily under suede elbows
inside patches across my eyes
pending interrogation in the shudder of my skin
upright against the dashboard
clock ticking in the dark.

There is a Silence/ Rolling of Time

There is a silence
it rings in the eaves
and brushes at her terrycloth
settling on the countertop
and widening her eyes?

Reading her Bible and the flash of carrot hair
reminds her of her mother
those buttons in her hat,
those bracelets she wore?

It was no accident they were the opposite
it was not charity, it was the pounding of footsteps
and the rolling of time.

Where do I find the words, on a bus,
in the curves of a woman leaning forward
clutching at her purse,
she?s sinking?

This is how I?ve been alive
beneath everything that?s shattered
I taught myself how to breathe?

This is how I experiment
in the distance between me and you
I see better, what is vital--
where are the churches?

It was no accident they were the opposite
it was not charity, it was the pounding of footsteps
and the rolling of time.

I am standing, I am located
I?m going to the colonnade?

It was no accident they were the opposite
it was not charity, it was the pounding of footsteps.