I find a broken window and wonder what it means.
I hear a tree bending and wish for it to snap.
There’s no wind in an abuse chair.
Tall beautiful one, if you finally fall to the barbarian mad cutter
he would not want your wood.
I will take up your splinters
but I cannot make you into something to sit on.
Burnt, your ashes help so much to grow,
and I can see the spirits climbing upward out of that dancing.
I, offspring, am sticky keys, sap stained; holding too long down
is what it takes to make a poet.
the hermit king of weird pop seek out: momus, sky mata, arto lindsay, robert wyatt, sam prekop, ryan power, ruth garbus, zach phillips, william austin clay, wendy eisenberg Like Spinning Tapes
Is it wicked not to care? Frances Chang's layered, strange experimental pop recalls Lisa Germano in its pursuit of meaning in a sad world. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 2, 2022
Old Table’s classic EP gets an “11½ Year Anniversary” vinyl reissue, and its lo-fi charm is as warm & winning as ever. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 16, 2020