Helpless Helpless alone in the woods As a baby newborn and pale She’s crying and I can hear her But I’ll not go near her Is that a fire or a wolf’s eyes Is this a forest or the evening sky It’s so dark in this analogy I can’t see a thing I’m certain I’m the bad guy But somebody’s got to be

Assuage I told a lie one little fib About a man and what he did I didn’t mean for him to die He told the truth and so should I If there’s a way I can assuage This restless mind then I will pay Still he lies inside the earth And won’t enjoy my lasting hurt

Clock It wasn’t a grandfather clock but it was his grandfather’s clock and Jack had no idea where it was. His mother had it repaired then foisted it upon them when she cleaned out the old house; said it was worth a pretty penny. It made a pretty awful racket, that was for sure. He was always surprised when it would suddenly appear on the mantle whenever his mother’s arrival approached. Miriam was good with that stuff in a way Jack just never could be. Birthdays, bills and condolences were always such a mystery to him. The only way he remembered their anniversary was because Miriam put an orange post-it on the kitchen calendar. Jack sat on a trunk in the attic and touched the ring on his ring finger then scanned the dimly lit space. There were a lot of places to hide amongst the waist high clutter he hadn’t seen in years: old albums from the service, eighteen years of tax statements, boxes of clothes, the exercise bike they never used. Hanging in the corner, all ghostly white, glowing almost, Miriam’s dress. Jack pulled it from its clear, plastic covering. In the poor light he could just make out the ruffled embroidery. Jack slid the dress into his arms like a baby and began to sway and spin a bit in 3/4 time. Opening his eyes, he spotted the clock in the corner near the cobwebbed window. Jack carefully covered the dress again and hung it up. He went over to the clock and wiped off the dust with his sleeve. It had been almost a month now that Miriam was gone and he still hadn’t told anyone. Jack turned the crank to open the window and slid the clock until it dropped and smashed on the landing. The sound made him happy. His hope was that his mother would see the clock and turn around and get back in her car. Then she’d drive back to Michigan and leave him alone in the attic.

GC III-guitars, beats, bass, slide, toy piano, synths.

Still You Are There’s a light in the evening sky Small at first just a speck Wavering gleaming Seaming to wink and flirt It widens and warms you From your very inside It’s a Christmas celebration It’s the memory of a feeling Fleeting and waning Arriving at the beach The sand burning your feet You run to the water and take a big snort In your head as waves knock you over Then back to the shore It’s a sunny day Inside the hot ever expanding situation And it may be that you have actually left your body That the night is no longer and you are no longer Still you are warm and still you are

Ember The actual sun touched my actual skin And it didn’t set me aflame I looked toward the sky toward god and his kind Shook my fist high and exclaimed With all that I’ve done and all that I’ve been You’d think I’d be smote down to ember With so much to see and so much to know Maybe god couldn’t remember

Maine Nancy pulls a long, thin hair from the pillow. She sniffs at it then winds it around either finger and pulls it taut, holding it up to the light coming in through the window. It’s blonde. For the past two weeks Nancy’s been in Texas cleaning out her uncle’s trailer. He was her only family and him hers. By the end, bringing trip after trip to the Salvation Army in his rusted truck, felt exhilarating and important. She parked in long term at the airport and seemed to float even before the plane took off. Nancy loved New York; eating any type of food at any time of day. The Soho galleries and all the different perspectives. She even grew to like the smell of the East River in the same way, as a child, she loved the smell of skunk on her dog when it rained. Lately though, she’s been thinking of Maine and snow and the long, jagged coastline. Nancy thinks she just might enjoy a change.

My Name is Nowhere Righteous Lord I see you in the trees Vengeful God your name’s scrawled in the sky Given all the seeds I’ve sewn My name’s surely not in your book My name is nowhere Still the sun across this lake shimmers Still the purpose of your stroke staggers Despite my incredulous nature Despite my past dalliances I’m amazed by all that fills my eyes Would you consider that as you reckon Or is my name nowhere