History Lessons, Vol. 3: Stuck In the Present

by Ryan Sarno



Somewhat like the first two volumes, the third History Lesson features compositions determined by recording, slippery grooves, and greased, third hand documentary poems. Nothing sticks, except the looping present you can almost pin down.


released December 11, 2014

RS - guitars, poems



all rights reserved


Ananalog Minneapolis, Minnesota

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Track Name: Biggerthatinmylife
Thing he might be doing Prehistory floats
joy at other mammals among our logs
swamp and sky trade fashions, like a boy in a small boat
lined the inner tongues like a green haired mermaid
of green haired mermaids popped in the chest with rock salt.
with salt, the value with rock salt, the value
of nutrition isn't lost of nutrition isn't lost
on boatsmen. on watersnakes.
If whiskey don't kill me I'll drink til I die.
Brain cage, I shot .22 My .22, no the derrick,
rattled around, went nowhere sent fish and flocks flying
but in circles. flying like dynamite.
We're not small, Squirrely back benders
but we climb trees. but we climb tres.
He's just had a hard life of work and she just dies her hair.
Track Name: Off Empire
I thought I heard them speak from behind my eye.
When I asked the night sky, the stars just shined.

Evelyn McHale, leavened of her brevity
on Earth, threw herself
zealous with gravity
skyscraper long gravity
the force of fifty
kilos by sixteen
by eighty three
stories or whatever
by twenty three
lead heavy years.
Landed louder
than a snow angel
atop limousine lounge back
makes her ornament angel gentry.
Those legs must be screwed in tight.
Rosebone face, left dead
and uncovered long enough
to comment - what a death
wasted, with your head still on.
Track Name: Infant / like Thirty
Herod, Texas collared shadow magnate,
spit maps through your cleft teeth.
A swamp under your cloak
and the sheep topped children
under your straps are long from home.

People point rakes to the skies,
rip and scrape hoods of Pharisees.
Armed from the neck down,
young men, shin stiff raincatchers
hacking a generation of boys
rolled down a hill
like inconvenient stones.
Unarmed from the neck up,
young men, disarmed
from the enrollment through
dismembered from the shoulder out,
Rachel in Ramah,
all will howl and hide their bodies
like the lipless wind howls
and hides itself in clearer skies.
Take no thought how what
to speak, all will howl
like the lipless winds.


The half life of "original" banger half life word in five years, fucked human energy in the blue light, in the red light lunch fucked, big time here, I'm taking about fucked.

Yacket racket fucked punks are hungry out and out lurching like shit bass. Liquor store tea house fuck suited palm tree licks fucked, damn yato. If you're the guy who gets a five on one when you scram at the corner, old school glad transfusion uncap a beer the first fucked yakuza flat top here you go get wrecked up in a tight suit on the cusp of death, no, fully alive, but days draw up to kill the fat burns blue the blue ink of the dead.

If your colleagues are digging graves, tell them to keep up the good work.
Track Name: Anneannie
Though he may have been evil
he was still holy.
Anneannie Anneannie
would you listen to me?
Them playa guitar lika
six string saxaphone,
I playit like we let
the cups of God
sit at home, like we
sun lid up bark
up at our parked home,
encased our lifelines
in oldstock silicon.
Anne Annie Anne Annie
que raro son,
the hive new old glass
fuse forty-five one
pane glass gainway
allergens at our new
town newtown home,
no one feels it
when my heart adds a beat
nothing replaceable between
your bones but the meat,
Anneannie Anneannie
that's what you get
for listening to me.