1. |
Grand Listener
02:59
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No, the Grand Listener did not hear the call of our kin from the growling dark, and there within no graceful swing of benevolent scythe sprung from some magic, mystic hands for the riddance of our hardship and earned our worship
Who’re you?
Where’re you?
Oh, Grand Listener, should they see in the north forest snow where you’re said to trot? For I do not
Does our god illuminate from top to toe atop the height of some realm unseen? That may or may not shine true through to the deepest root
Who’re you?
Where’re you?
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2. |
Gazing Doe
05:17
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Stop to watch those hills carry mane like lace and lone oak under clouds which lie brave with winged wave of feather-folk
No ancient hand on wand
No being spoke this to being
I was a gazing doe
I want to be as wild as the wicked wind,
though pass like a soft breeze
I remember that I thought one could gain wings
and that things do fade with ease and gentle bidding to the light
Like ancient hand on wand, what magic that would be!
I was a gazing doe
I want to live as wild as the wicked wind,
though die like a soft breeze
Elder hills roll white with a cold fanfare
and I, a gazing doe, have learned to graze elsewhere
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3. |
The Moon in Moods
06:43
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Feeling some way
Wasted and arcane
The sun, the same
Slow dance of fading flame
Some nights I muse
of life incertitude,
of love the same
Slow dance of fading flame
The moon in moods
What would this me be without that you?
The sun, the same
What would a you without me choose to do?
One honest dream
of colors no one’s seen
a dream of what has been,
you at aphelion
Feeling some way, too
Light, like you, withdrew
One tandem dive
To sink my heart alive
The moon in moods
What would this me be without that you?
The sun, the same
What would a you without me choose to do?
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4. |
Lull and Awe
04:54
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The gods may die and all mankind’s rike may fall
Dry beneath our wrinkled star, we may be swept over by brazen brush
The klaxon clutter hushed
You’ll find this like a lulling awe
What life, the rise and close
What life, the creature’s pose
The image lost like no thing was
like no one was
like no where was
Forevermore
What are we? What for? This skin that hangs on to me and machine beneath need a fresh wind, so I’ll breath while I may
I’ll breathe while I am
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5. |
Lost Moth
04:59
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My heart was stirring like moths in a purring of one luminous hive
Bright, alluring and alive
your mouth was the dive - was the final dive to sink me
When I closed my tired eyes that night I saw you swimming miles above in the spinning, wondrous wash of astral realm
You, the pull of a moon, drew some lost moth
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6. |
Phoenix Feather
04:14
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What warmth
that roosts in her
So much light
So it burns through
and thieves my heart
from the dark stars
How sweet
what she soothes me with
Then like a myth
I lose the world I knew
and through to dawn
Palm on melting palm
Now I know her
Now I know her
I met my love pyropathically
Plumed and posed
in a cincture, we arose - synchronized in smoke
Now I know her,
Now I know her as the myrrh, the honey, and the burn
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7. |
Bluest Blue
04:29
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We were a caravan to the bluest water I ever knew, and the promise of a view
I came to make a paint of bluest blue
The lake had an old face and was said to hold a trace of the first colors to grace the pallid earth
We were to see and recreate with oil-stirring alchemy
the touch of gods said to be present there
I knew it was, clairvoyantly
So in that year before the known discovery
of the stone lazuli
we traced upon a map to find the lake,
which lore remained could even dye the skin
some hue of sky-like tint
We formed around the lake upon the rim,
and there, an expeditious scene
of oil-stirring alchemy
I touched a vial to the shore and filled it through
and from it’s core of bluest blue
we, by clever means, withdrew the hue
through alembic brewing alchemy
and jubilant, unknowing of the blasphemy,
gathered the hue of bluest blue
but once it left the sandy loams it turned to wine
and then to dirt, and then we knew the gods were hurt
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8. |
A Poem a Day
04:24
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A poem a day, the year before
You laughed until you cried
You’d say you died laughing
“Will you send a song?”
Would I, if I could write one
I’m an endless palimpsest
I’m sorry for such songlessness
Poet, alone with a telephone
and a photo of god underexposed
I will miss my friend
and every verse mellifluous
We all knew her heart to be
always luminous
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9. |
A Day on Earth
05:10
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Another song begins musing too
Fire in the forests
Fire to the fuse
A hum lulls on - the mournful song’s
likeness drawn from the terminal dawn and dusk
The body betrays
in quickening ticks wending ’til the heart is stayed
All upon the world outgrew their womb
Who is there to blame?
You live for a day
A day on earth
A mote of dirt
A trodden, ashen earth
Another lung begins breathing new
Fire to the mountain
Fire to the fuse
A stone strung lone and overgrown
It’s a wonderful, beautiful world til you know
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Tispur Portland, Oregon
Tispur is a dream-folk project fronted by Samwise Carlson which forms intricate guitar, dream-like vocals, and ornate lyricism to excite evocative imagery of imaginary worlds. Samwise is known for their angelic vocal style, impressive range and gently hypnotic, moving performances akin to the spirits of Nick Drake, Vashti Bunyan, and Joanna Newsom. ... more
Tispur recommends:
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