Autumn Prince
"on days where I feel big it's hard to remember I'm not
on days where I feel small it's hard to remember the ants I've stepped on"
wow that's nice, and i also do not have a gender. good, relatable, nicee.
Favorite track: children in grass while trees grow taller.
I call you but your mailbox is full
so I listen to my own voicemail and try to feel whole
but all I get back is some static and egg yolk
I'm nothing but a palimpsest of your bones
last night I was on the Merrimack river
and the lights were watching me so I stared back
and they looked like they were make of plastic
and I felt like I was made of plastic
but we're really just made of metal and glass bits
I'll try to feel real but I can't
I'll try to be loud but I can't
I'm trying to not hate my body but i can't
don't tell me i can
we're just a dry beehive an empty house
gold lines leak from window blinds that I wish were curtains
we're teething on second hands
and wrought iron birds nests
I don't want fall until my body knows flightless
I don't want ground until my feet know navigation
I want to tell the tree how tall it's gotten
without the forest laughing at how small my view is and
I want to watch dirt hold hands with lightning just to see if it sticks
I want the mountain to feel safe in its self image
so cracks can cave in
they don't want you to wear what you want to
I think you're an ocean
trying migration
you are a vagrant
transcending vacant bones
cold blooded green things are growing in my chest cavity
and it reminds me of the holes in my teeth
a gaping tree
the birds have started rotting around me
oxidizations taking us at younger ages and
death is not for certain
and we are more permanent than we intended
ashes that never got scattered by blowing branches
I've been grieving for your leaves leaning towards half mast
I've been laying on wood floors so that the world around me looks like mountains
but the sun goes down and I realize my armchair is just a goblin
and I'm the same size as everything else
I want a room that gets smaller as I get older
I want a room that gets smaller as I get older
from paint covered fingers
I want walls that get closer as I start to wither
I want to build my coffin with a pencil
I want to build my coffin with a pencil
I want to build my coffin with a pencil
I want walls that get closer as I start to wither
you don't like my leg hair
cause it doesn't match my gender
but I don't have one
I was growing a garden
I'll be a giant
disguised as a mountain and
all the bugs can live in my bruises
plants will learn to like roots in chapped lips
I won't feel ugly if I stay still
covered in dirt and ant hills
I won't uproot dust before the wind does
and maybe when the plates shift
ill shake off moss with green guilt
on days where I feel big it's hard to remember I'm not
on days where I feel small it's hard to remember the ants I've stepped on
I'm not a giant
I'm not a giant
I'm not a giant
I don't like this
tree limbs hold cold fingers
my skin is bark
I'm tangled in footsteps
and brambles
second to the things I grow on
a knock off
nesting in loss
If you find my body let me rust
so I can be done pulling thorns from my scars
I've splintered when I've come apart
I want to find the place that's dark
when light is too much
a new moon to repress what I already forgot
I'll search for the parts of me I lost in thickets of cloth while I slept and walked
to graveyards so I'd feel like people are holding my shoulders up
and my hands apart
I still want to climb a mountain to tear myself apart at the top
so my insides are closer to God and farther from church when the end comes
there's smoke in my lungs and
if I don't talk I'll forget where my veins came from
and be left with frayed iron fences leading to my blood
not sure where I walked from
but you're not less gone
I'll forget why my chest hurts
dissociate until I'm numb and
I felt comfortable as someone I thought I could become
as someone that screams when their seams are falling apart
lets the world know it sucks
I need you so I can feel like i'm someone
hold my wooden tongue
ground my body until I'm sure it's a part of me
until i'm sure I'm not made of hollow limbs and cold feet
until I believe in God when I'm not angry
This album by Kenyan electronic producer rPH and poet Kins of Spade reflects on the impact of religion in their lives and society. Bandcamp New & Notable May 12, 2023
Poet Douglas Kearney and composer/producer/drummer Val Jeanty link up for a a compelling LP that feels like the written word come to life. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2021