1. |
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Who cares? You care.
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2. |
Now Air Is Air
03:10
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...by e.e. cummings
now air is air and thing is thing:no bliss
of heavenly earth beguiles our spirits,whose
miraculously disenchanted eyes
live the magnificent honesty of space.
Mountains are mountains now;skies are now skies—
and such a sharpening freedom lifts our blood
as if whole supreme this complete doubtless
universe we’d(and we alone had)made
—yes;or as if our souls,awakened from
summer’s green trance,would not adventure soon
a deeper magic:that white sleep wherein
all human curiosity we’ll spend
(gladly,as lovers must)immortal and
the courage to receive time’s mightiest dream
|
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3. |
Sing Sweet Blood
02:06
|
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Wakerobin
sing
Sing
blood
red
Red as your feather-
breast.
Stir
leaves
ride
Ride
on
breath
Breath from collapsing
chest.
Sun
don't
hide,
Glint
your
peaks:
As spear to His
side.
Trees
bow
low
Halo
glow--
'round
Dripping thorns-a-
crown.
|
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4. |
Gray Seahorse
02:46
|
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All the light a winter storm can receive
is a gray seahorse that turns into a C,
throws its back arched and splits into three,
and provides prismed edges, making colors to see.
(...for short--they melt quickly
and then sink back to sea:
a hole that starts to shaft and retract and flee;
soon swallowed is it that has shown all to thee.)
All day I watch the clouds play;
all day the finger of God stays.
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5. |
The Year 1373
03:17
|
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The moon chased me on tracks,
and the stars pinned a shawl across his shoulders
and it fell across his back.
And all the light from space
was a greenhouse paper-lantern
lit up bright on earth's dark face.
And I know I saw you there...you were there.
Before the possibility of me
flashed on someone's brain
(I was without five faculties),
still from your head like rain off eaves,
your blood dripped for Julian--
the year was 1373.
And I know I (she) saw you there...you were there.
|
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6. |
Rue Saint-Antoine
02:19
|
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7. |
Elote
01:40
|
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8. |
Lullaby
04:58
|
|||
I've heard the cranes, seen sky curl from their wings,
and in the rain, heard every droplet ring.
But does it matter? It's only in my dreams--
a strange darkness that brings a stranger thing:
I know a strain of hope, a drunken offering,
a winter coat, beneath an early spring.
In spring...
She'll sing a lullaby for sons and daughters.
From lips it will fly to future fathers,
and hope will still ring.
When shadows come, eclipsing you and me,
blink out the sun, moon behind a tree,
beauty comes fractured; it comes painfully.
A disaster--but broken on a sea
you're spent better to hear the waves come carefully;
they're soft and near, and meant only for me.
For me...
She'll sing a lullaby for sons and daughters.
From lips it will fly to future fathers,
and hope will still ring.
|
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9. |
Il Etait un Petit Homme
01:48
|
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Il était un petit homme, pirouette, cacahouète
Il était un petit homme qui avait une drôle de maison
Sa maison est en carton, pirouette, cacahouète
Sa maison est en carton, ses escaliers sont en papier.
Ce lui qui y montra, pirouette, cacahouète
Ce lui qui y montra se cassera le bout du nez.
Le facteur qui y est monté, pirouette, cacahouète
Le facteur qui y est monté; il sest cassé le bout du nez.
Un avion à réaction, pirouette, cacahouète
Un avion à réaction a rattrapé le bout du nez.
On lui l'a raccommodé, pirouette, cacahouète
On lui l'a raccommodé avec du joli fil doré.
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10. |
Tim Koehn Nicosia, Cyprus
Tim Koehn, currently based in Cyprus, teaches for a living but writes and makes music any chance he gets.
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