i miss those nights i'd be in by nine,
& we only smoked on wednesday nights.
before the organ tones from the cathedral
poked pinholes in the ceiling,
we were buzzing from the floorboards and the ceiling fans
& we approached the stain glass with our jaws relaxed,
singing our blank verses
that we held so dear to our dreary hearts.
glasses of half drank merlot
cauldron of skeleton sketches
ripped from notebooks he owns
go to canada
(& they say)
go to canada
can we think of ways that we can integrate from within
& melt into silver speakers to mash away our sins?
& friend I still love you
despite the sugar seeping from your head,
the psychoactive stimulant that we
grew a tolerance to when we were children.
[but] i remember chasing you around
the playground,
my head split and my brain unravelled.
we were just little kids
with no where to live
so we found holes in the ground to inhabit.
now the neighbor has lost his dog
after falling down the stairs.
& he still calls the cops
despite us being quiet now
just to show he's still there.
go to canada
can we think of ways that we can integrate from within
& melt into silver speakers to mash away our sins?
William Ryan Fritch's enthralling, doomy new CD comes housed in a gorgeous, panoramic gatefold sleeve with bewitching original artwork. Bandcamp New & Notable May 16, 2016