1. |
Small Bones
03:18
|
|||
|
We're spinning 'round the round thing:
circle, spiral, go.
You think you'll step off.
You're numb; you think it's slow.
Until you feel once more
the wind's increasing roar,
you'll never know
how fast you're spinning.
A wall could crush your skull.
And if you stepped off,
a similar result.
But contradiction kind,
angled just past right,
and it's a go.
So here we go.
Now we know.
Just past right.
Through the night.
This contradiction is working now.
I'm coming out to you; I'm coming out...for you.
Just like the darkness answers day,
the earthbound lark must fly away,
kick off this ancient, fresh-tilled stone
to feel the weight in its small bones.
|
||||
2. |
Owl
03:52
|
|||
|
You had to say
in that most ghostly, unnerving way,
like a prophet piercing souls all the moonlit day:
"Come out and play
and look into my eyes red as flame.
It'll make you want to stay; it'll make you want to say,
make you want to pray:
Hey, Ancient Lady, burn down the city
with your eyes, with your fiery eyes of flame."
Who am I now
that I've put on this dark forest shroud?
Can I become like the owl and fly by night away?
Who are you now,
a rat trapped, drunk on their poison? How
will you ever get away? I can see it straight away;
it makes me want to say:
"Hey, Ancient Lady, burn down the city
with your eyes, with your fiery eyes of flame."
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
If I wonder, Buffalo Brother, where you
Keep your shaggy carapace during summer,
Please don’t think I’m hoping to steal it. I’m just
Interested in all
Things that shed by increments, that which slowly
Drops its layers, gradually showing essence
Underneath ephemeral, fur-deep, surface
Coverings, that’s all.
But of course!—it’s everywhere drifting, caught fast
Here and there on vertical, swaying clothes lines:
Flags of fluff fleck shimmering swathes of grassland,
Animal windfall.
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
The earth goes on in endless song
within its lamentation.
You'll hear the near and endless hymn
that sings of recreation.
Through all the shifting and the strife,
you'll hear the music ringing.
The deepest echo in your soul--
that's the earth still singing.
You lift your eyes; the cloud grows thin;
you see the blue above it.
And day by day this pathway bends
since first you learned to love it.
The storms must shake and then grow calm
while to this rock we're clinging.
Grass will grow where soil grows thin
and keep the last bird singing.
|
||||
Tim Koehn Nicosia, Cyprus
Tim Koehn, currently based in Cyprus, teaches for a living but writes and makes music any chance he gets.
If you like Tim Koehn, you may also like:
If you have a fondness for expertly wrought roots-rock with sharp lyrics and aching vocals, look no further—“Strangers” is for you.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jan 19, 2024
go to album
Scottish lever harpist Lucie Hendry's pastoral folk-jazz overflows with charm and melody.
go to album
A Pan-Latin folktronica odyssey that develops Bolivian music and culture into a roadmap for metaphysical growth and inner serenity.
go to album
Small Small
by Isaac Birituro & The Rail Abandon
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jun 28, 2022
go to album
Winter Of Discontent
by Knomad Spock
The British-Somali poet draws upon everything from leftfield folk to minimalist spoken-word, bound together by simple-yet-cutting wordplay.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio May 19, 2020
go to album
