1. |
A Phone Click
04:02
|
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2. |
An Isolated Note
04:07
|
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3. |
Oatmeal Spoon and News
04:29
|
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4. |
This is Old (2022)
07:52
|
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|
This is old.
We are old.
The repetition of digging out veins
Used to cause spurting blood
And now, even veins are tired
Blood has dried
The cracked remnants
The bed that used to cradle the waters
As they rushed and fed and drank
This is old.
In its dryness
In its disuse
In its overuse
Hugging knees into chest.
Wrapping arms around.
Hugging into ourselves,
like hugging a long-lost-and-found friend
We must comply.
We must surrender.
This is old.
In its teasing and taking
In its blooming
In its dying
|
||||
5. |
Mother Laughing
05:31
|
|||
6. |
Shifting Seat
03:53
|
|||
7. |
This Could've Been You
05:46
|
|||
|
It looks like graphite covered in algae, slug slime, and bloody tissue
It’s huge, filling my whole belly
It’s sharp, perforating my organs
It’s yours, not mine, yet I’ve sucked it in through my belly button and stored it here
I’ve absorbed it, giving it a home
Extricating it out over and over but it’s left behind tendrils merged with me
I could give it back to you
Or I could release it into the air
Every thread I pull rips me
You think I am cold
But the wounds left behind hold innumerable microscopic fires
Movement.
Breath.
Unlock.
Move it.
Break it.
Block it.
|
||||
8. |
Father Laughing
04:30
|
|||
9. |
A Buzzing Hinge
03:34
|
|||
10. |
A Sniff
04:11
|
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11. |
Naming Time
07:48
|
|||
|
Look at you tethered to the bench
Your feet merged with the ground
Look at you floating away way up high
Legs and arms sprawling
Are you reaching for a hold?
Are you opening and embracing the hot wind?
The reality of your floating above your cemented seat
These two things cannot be
In this ungraspable time
I will assign the time to this scene. It’s 9:15 in the morning.
Registration of these places escapes in that way
That way that feather-touches the fingers
That way that is only a breeze
A feeling of the thing that is not
Like a twitching nerve in the ankle, an internal prank, an external ghost
Hold this spot, time.
I cannot see you in both of these places, because my eyes move together.
|
||||
12. |
Dog Ears and a Ring
06:17
|
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13. |
A Buzz
04:45
|
|||
14. |
I Can Choose
05:01
|
|||
|
Loss
Gain
Knots unravel then form again
The sun shone this morning, then it grew dark and wet and flooded
After, it couldn’t decide, shifting clouds and sun, then chose to rain again but this time looking like tiny crystals coming straight from the sun
Yet there is stasis in my natural state, free from analysis, free from metamorphosis, free from influence
Except I have her eyes and his nose
The smallest, fleeting moments
Are so sharp they’d slice your skin
They are full, a complete concentrate of acceptance, of stability amidst the intoxicating swirl of chaos, of no judgment
When they leave, there is a faint whiff of the possibility of losing this pain
If too much time passes, I forget that I can choose.
|
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Silver Godling New Orleans, Louisiana
Silver Godling is the project of Emily McWilliams. All photos on this page by Teddie Taylor - teddietaylor.com - and Craig Mulcahy - craigmulcahy.net.
FOR FULL DISCOGRAPHY, please visit emilymcwilliams.net
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