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Dirty Birds
05:50
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All night rainfall animates the creek—flecks of mica pinned beneath. The rarest light, save for ours. Funny how it’s never fully winter here—no more than muddied, no longer hurried. We sing hibiscus to line the driveway. We sing to craft our own bee – yardbirds trunky for spring – and fields forever, shored on all sides. We’d come there together to sun from the shade. What would that demand of you and me? In our little plot of time – all of it, the bones? Shall we call it love that ferries us along? We gesture toward home, but we are home. If you say darkness is still, when it falls, understand I am moving toward you. The rarest light still is ours. Now follow me through the dark, to the creek – and we’ll find out together, what’s been drawing us in.
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Horse Apples Albany, New York
Jhonn C
Experimental Stoned-to-the-Bone Bedroom Pop, improvisational, NY ambient weird
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