1. |
Midlake
03:34
|
|||
Oh forlorn lover, in summer, unfurl -
like some vast, florid map, unfurl.
we’re distant lands, touching somehow,
a gently rocking boat; sweetly rippling borders.
and in this airborne moment, we’re two forms suspended,
and opaque architectures shape your shadow -
If I could still all motions, and listen,
quietly, perfectly, I’d descend
into that delicate, dreaming realm of
our breaths, in sync for an instant -
hand in hand with the infinite.
Oh, sleepy protectors of two gentlest solitudes,
geographies are shaped within your trust.
The water is a mirror shattered by our falling;
silhouettes night-swimming in July -
all skin speckled with moonlight,
mid-lake; silence but for our breathing.
July 2016
|
||||
2. |
Between Mountains
03:49
|
|||
My dear, I’m afraid I broke my shadow
with each step down the mountain, on a
sixteen-mile hike away from you.
Flanked fir, granite stairs, hand-carved and mossy
with abandonment: the path
was a walk through strangers; crowds collide with me
and every impact steals little shards from my shadow:
tiger’s eye reflections spilled like soot into dusty streets,
into wand’ring pathways weary between peaks
My dear, like a desperate ant or a fearful soldier,
in that expanse of delirious forest,
I’m drinkless and long past dry -
Noontide, the waxing sun always washes
that southern shadow from my back,
but evening, from the north,
speckles the steps ahead, over roots and under stoplights (as do
stars painted at night unbleached by the city glow, empty),
but I follow like one blind to starlight,
with an outstretched hand
(but here I’ve seen it before,
there’s nothing blocking it from me save
myself, and the silhouettes I paint on
that northern path, looming in moonlight).
Looming and luminous when the southern
sun strikes in morning, but for all
emotions I’m neither here nor there, and
a little lost-
July 2015
|
||||
3. |
Of Broken Mirrors
05:29
|
|||
light, orange
like incense,
like escape;
it’s all I wanted.
And a bird of broken mirrors perched
on the wall by your bed -
I’m remembering reflections like shattered
glass on slate: your truths were
seeds grown to flowers of fantasy,
dried into incense and youth
into incense and youth
At twenty and twenty-one, white walls could
orange be lit; branches silhouette
windows and walls.
Winter-thick dusk!
With every gust, I let cold of
ten thousand trees, bareboned,
heavy, whitely whisper old hymns.
They blur into your dreaming breaths: nearby lie
cathedrals of concealed limbs.
cathedrals of concealed limbs.
Shaking sanctuary, the soft-singing
broken-mirror remembered
calls past incense, even red clouded
vision; your words sing
“Wine will warm your eyes to orange,
orange will warm rambles sown,
Sun will warm my florid shawl -
these nights, I won’t bare my snow-cloaked bones.”
I’ve forgotten my own oak bones.”
empty, we were, beneath it all
(Clouds, hollow, fleeting to touch)
you were the bird perched on your wall
(and I’d cut my fingers digging for depth)
Stilling the spinning, pausing for words,
nodding past my trembling hands:
“I fall asleep with each step through night;
this room’s all orange-incensed dreaming.
I never thought it could stand the springtime;
that I’d inhale all seeming
of broken birds or bones -
of broken birds or snow-cloaked bones.”
even the light
through broken mirrors.
Fall 2015
|
||||
4. |
All Wings
06:12
|
|||
All wings and needy arms float lightly, bathing in the glow
of a melting candle, slowly burning, beautiful and bright
on a winter night, wax cascades on wax, sensuous and slow
And this starry-eyed moth creeps ever closer, enchanted, I’m sure-
And once, all hair and needy legs crawled quietly in
my childhood attic: a lonely and longing caterpillar, lost
and hungry among old hewn beams, and old pictures of young people -
but crushed leaves fell from my hands, and, sated,
he slept through colder seasons-
The moth and the butterfly emerged at once,
all midnight wandering and fragile tragic limbs
cocoon and chrysalis split open, all wet wings
and aloof antennae, and distant lights -
Candles burned behind moonlit fogged windows of a cheap sedan
on a backroad, all hands on windows and whispered warmth, and how we flocked-
the obscured glow tantalized eclipses; the glass pane harder
than to bend for water, or to reach for low branches; Tantalus! Tantalus! Upon the barrier,
we broke ourselves.
Shattered wings, falling fragmented glass of ornate chandeliers
on backroads, falling, falling, or on glassy hardwood, breaking, breaking,
All broken candles and melted waxes; the roaming fires burn in your eyes
consuming mountaintops, the glow an open blaze; by moonlight, these dirt roads
tantalized me
All wings and greedy arms float forward, erotic in the glow
All needy grabs towards burning flames - mine, mine, mine - mine, mine mine mine,
But you were a burning candle, all cascading, dreaming waves
And no matter how slow your burn, in time it will show
All wings and greedy arms catch, with smoke and red
All wings and needy grabs burn, and fall to the floor
All wings and needy arms writhe, and flutter, and squirm no more
February 2015
|
Cole Blu Brooklyn, New York
NYC.
Interested in the poetics and broken narrativities of memory.
Songwriter, producer, guitarist, composer.
Streaming and Download help
If you like Cole Blu, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp