Mineral * EndSerenading

Just a line


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1998
1. LoveLetterTypewriter
2. Palisade
3. Gjs
4. Unfinished
5. Forlvadell
6. WakingToWinter
7. ALetter
8. SoundsLikeSunday
9. &Serenading
10. TheLastWordIsRejoice
Pic from CD Cover



LoveLetterTypewriter. summer unfolded, like a tapestry. and you were there - as you have always been there - glowing where the sky meets with the trees. and softly crowing, singing fears to sleep. "will you ever know how much I love you for that?"

Palisade. and there I was at fourteen - spinning with my arms out like a scarecrow; walking down monroe to the park, and dancing up madison. With my eyes closed, your feet sounded like a symphony of strings (you picked me up, and whispered: "forever", like a secret in my ear). to smile (like it caused the grass to bend). the warm wind and these memories are gifts that I could never comprehend. i died that day. but something was born inside of me that I cannot explain away.

Gjs. you woke me in the morning to say "he is risen!" and i replied with a smile "he is risen indeed." and somehow you always leave the room, alive with truth and beauty - and carry yourself like you know that it's all just a matter of time. i said, "but maybe I'm too far down this time." "too proud to hope - to weak to climb." but you just pierce me through with eyes, that know i'm not (and i can); and carry yourself like you're sure of it: that the stitches dissolve, and the wounds all heal in time. i only hope someday i might resemble you in even the smallest way; i only hope that you can be proud of me.

Unfinished. i wish you could put your ear up to my heart (and hear how much i love you). i still dream of december - dancing together, with rings on our fingers. "and the two shall become.."

Forlvadell. ivadell, you held us in your arms that day - but look at how tiny me and matthew both were; and you so strong, and full of grace. what stories these pictures can tell, of days when we bathed brightly in the sun; with the medicine of laughter everywhere. ivadell, I held you in my thoughts that day (and wished that they were arms) when you were frail - and passing from this place. what stories your paintings told boys, of hills too steep to climb, ascended (and hearts that were not afraid to flap their wings and fly). but you are safe now - and effortlessly breathing - where new weather will fall on you; and all your fears, break (like waves folding into themselves and disappearing into the sea).

WakingToWinter. in winter, when the air gets cold - and breathing causes white ghosts to appear - they light up the city with christmas trees, and strings that hang across the street (from telephone pole….to telephone pole…to telephone pole…). so that when I'm driving home at night - tired, frustrated and pinned down by spite - i'm reminded that your love (unlike these things) will never change, or fade, or pass away.

ALetter. and always, there is a picture of you and her - coming home, happy, from a vacation on the seas. and you looked like a sailor, with a tattoo of an anchor on your arm - your hair greased back (face weathered by places and days I'd never seen). sometimes i read and re-read the birthday card you sent me when i turned seven. and i know the sun will never shine the way it did that day (when we threw paper airplanes at your head, and sat on your knees - laughing).

SoundsLikeSunday. time doesn't always heal: it just breathes and swallows memories like the seasons change - sending showers; beating flowers into the mud. and nothing is forever in this place. nothing but the way my heart fits in your hands; the held breath of hope; and the sweet lingering taste of grace. ("how blessed we are for crying now, for we will laugh someday…and how.")

mp3 available
&Serenading. will you come? and what will i say? "oh….i have been so distant…and unhappy" (like i could disappear). when i was a boy, i saw things that no one else could see. so why am i so blind at 22, to the hope that is all around me - filling up this room. on the road. on my own. waiting for the words to fall from your tongue, into my ears. when i was a boy, i could hear symphonies in seashells. so why am i so deaf at 22, to the sound of the driving snow that drives me home to you

TheLastWordIsRejoice. "how will I drink from that stream?" "how will my heart sing your praise?" "how will I lay down in green grass fields, when my soul is so afraid to….rejoice…

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