1. |
Abram Indiana
04:29
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|
When I’m free
When I leave the city
When I’m free
Then I’ll wake up early
I’ll tend the rocky fields on the hill
I’ll serve the basil in my windowsill
When I’m free
Swatting at the horse fly
When I’m free
And with tears in my eyes
I’ll sit and watch my grandma Winifred
I’ll sit and watch her baking raisin bread
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2. |
Elijah Yoder
04:29
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|
From a small town to a city
Traded the grass for
Money and metro cards
Took an internship in fashion
Little did I know
Little did I know
I’d end up missing
My little farm-house town:
A little lamplight
And midnight thunder sounds
The single restaurant
The single coffee shop
The steam from the horse’s nose
An overcast walk through the blackberry grove
Watching the robins fly
To scour the dirt for worms inside
Only to take them home
For babies to gobble, grow, and cry
Maybe my eyes and weak
But I haven’t seen any signs of life here
Maybe my family’s right
Maybe they stand on the porch and wait for me in the night
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3. |
Cherry Mary Michigan
03:50
|
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|
Helicopters watch me through my window
Helicopters watch me close the blinds
I don’t know any of my neighbors’ names
I don’t know any of my neighbor’s names
Took the train
Fell asleep
Woke up in
East Berlin
There a mime
Held a sign
Tried to sell me
Diamond ice cream
Why on earth do I live in this prison
Solipsistic over-stimulation
Every day, twenty-two blocks of cat-calls
Every night, twenty bills I can’t pay
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4. |
||||
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When she bled out in the barn
Mice came and drank from her arm
While the calves dream
And the countryside sleeps
In a cornfield,
On a back-road
In a fly-over state
And the rockets
In the rainclouds
Light the eyes of an owl
__
And the smell of
Asbestos
The iron and mold
And a family
Of herons
Flies numb through the cold
How a life here
Like a pebble
Weighs nothing at all
At the nipple
Of a black sheep
In the vagabond Fall
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5. |
Jebediah Iowa
03:39
|
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|
I stood and told my father straight,
“The Law is not for me.
Instead I’d like to be a chef,
And live with foxberries.”
“Look into the future, then,”
He told me hard and slow,
“And tell me if you’re happy there,
Paid in pastry dough.”
I looked and saw an older me,
Who pulled my face to his;
He kissed me while a langoustine
Wriggled in his wrist.
And as he turned to walk away,
A fire flared up on the stove…
All around me pickled onions,
And powder kegs of clove.
_
I shrank to dodge a flying salmon,
And slipped on rigatoni;
I covered up my aching ears,
And sneezed up rainbow curry.
Then someone handed me a pot -
Tall, and bronze, and heavy -
And when I saw what was inside,
I screamed and threw it from me.
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