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lyrics

EMPTY NESTS

Your dream catcher caught the knife tonight.
The blade won’t penetrate your eyes, your mind.
Who would summon it?
The war outside’s turned common,
hasn’t it? Isn’t it, isn’t it
startling to see the starlings shoot
full-flock like a cannonball from the hedge?
Isn’t it, isn’t it everything you wanted—the furnace bled
and, overhead, a cross-hatching of branches, empty nests.

Summoned to sort it out: the night.

Your dream catcher caught the knife tonight.
The blade doubled back like an uttered phrase
that wasn’t right. Who would summon it?
The words stall in your throat.
Get them out. Here’s a knife.
Extricate the dream-speak from the landmines
and cannonballs of your cowardice. Isn’t it,
isn’t it everything you wanted—the buried dead,
the broken bread on a table
bruised by elbows and candle wax.

credits

from Mapping an Absence, released July 28, 2017

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The Warp/The Weft Poughkeepsie, New York

Blending traditional and avant-garde styles, the warmth of a good wool sweater and the sometimes-bleak cold of an upstate winter, the progressive folk and psychedelia that the band brings to bear is propelled by poetic lyrics and a "spirit-conjuring" lilting tenor that prompted psych-folk legend Tom Rapp (of Pearls Before Swine) to ask, "Can I have your voice when you're through with it?" ... more

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