Get all 35 Ananalog releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Yulelogjam 2023, Apotropaic Dances, moonshot, Love For All, Hate For Some, Salon Trash, Yulelogjam 2020, LOADED / OVERLOADED, Nature Designs New Fruit, and 27 more.
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More than anything...
Boston and Taipei pour in together.
It takes a beltway
to shock him awake
from Easter green kitchen walks
out back to smoke alone.
Taipei and Boston and Death
are separated by a tunnel.
With grandpa's ashes
and smoke in my lap,
I'm not afraid to enter,
not for myself,
but that grandpa doesn't scatter
when the pressures shift
from green to cabinet brass.
...I am a mausoleum.
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2. |
Charlie
03:40
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Past the crease turnabout
like greased Lee cutoffs.
Switchback or switch
to gas to push
to the Reformas.
I don't believe the mariposario
wall was half down
recently, stairs hadn't been
half swept for weekends.
Collect eggs first in the morning,
first thing clutch fat pupae,
plump over velcro feet
and lashy spines, alone to fatten.
To split sapphire backed
buh blink witch
hazel eyes. They
flew in tunnels.
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3. |
Jeanne
01:40
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Quartered behind an old wall,
a light shone through a window is all,
saw seul avec Dieu,
projected against the wall.
Only as far as my arm can I see
how God is dressed, a woman to be,
only as far as my arm,
nothing else belongs to me.
Who know how often again
I'll watch these brimmed/plattered bald country heads
chain the Bible to their waists,
scratch themselves on a slate.
It wont be because we apostatized,
it will be a long time before our fear's metastasized,
it took until Callixtus to realize
that our backs were never pinned against the wall.
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4. |
Red Palm
07:36
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5. |
Earned Teeth
03:48
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Each pack of dogs has to earn its teeth,
breathing, a coat of mounds, breaths stifled underneath.
Underneath, the cold meat white in the running sun.
A long swan neck lopped, left in the lake.
I couldn't breathe, beneath the family pile,
my pack smiled, their new teeth along in file.
New teeth, shone to me,
along in file, earned the right to be.
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like my hands were Marcia Griffiths feet, electrostatic, they slid dusted off the wheatstone console basketball games crop dusted soles,
palm brushed wet chalkdusted up your chances to the chance of the other squad losing. Nah, fuck. CHAOS! RIGHT?! Much dust galvanized, stuck on the console, much chaos went whimpering to the edge of the ocean,
where people sit, wind whipped, decaying into dust
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