1. |
Chasing Snakes
01:56
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Growing up when I was young I walked in the woods; past the dogs and past the barn and past the holes I dug for fun. I walked under branches of leaves; green with black rest-in-peace leaves beneath my feet. Bark brown and red, yellow-orange accents, insects, thick necks, expanding heads. We know there’s life in the trees, but we keep staring at our feet; chasing snakes. I've been told to watch for life on the ground without my head in the clouds; chasing snakes.
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2. |
Letters. Numbers. Words.
01:18
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It’s two days until this year’s end; the death of days. Calendar spaces left blank will forever sit patient; waiting for ink to claim them: proof that maybe something made them, evidence that maybe they were not wasted. I've been looking for a reason to pick up my pen: this is not one of them. Scribed in ink are day labels, false hope and preplanned movements. We live for pronunciation and unscripted moments. We live for the expression of the characters forever.
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3. |
Ludlow
01:47
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Three hours south. Aching bones. Trying to breathe life back into flat decomposed flesh: Begging for a fresh start, begging for perfect timing. Newspaper placemat separates sticky from skin. Coffee breath on an empty chair; Farewell perfect timing. Reality is checking my sources; Red pen.
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4. |
Snapshot
01:52
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When seasons change I think of yesterday. Nostalgic feelings surface from everything: from scents of flowers to the sound of mosquito wings. As time goes by I must make room for memories so I let 'em go. I let some go. I let 'em go for space to predict my future, determine my fate, but reading palms and crystal balls, counting stars and playing tarot cards or Ouija boards, decoding spirit orbs and ghost voice recordings won’t uncover anything so I let them go.
We can’t horse collar the Earth that’s spinning.
We can’t delay the ones who are leaving.
We can’t foresee the joys of oncoming blessings.
We can’t predict the days that will be most interesting.
We can’t underline the moments that will stay with us indefinitely.
We can’t identify the senses that will forever affect us directly.
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5. |
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Pull wheels from the wall. Take your last sips of alcohol. Open streets, dampened seats, circle feet. Don’t wait for a hand to turn into a man. Green, red, (&) yellow peace: There’s only three; three in the street with circle feet. Circle feet. Woodruff. Madison. Superior. Jefferson. Broadway. Michigan. Summit. Adams. The Old West End. Details in the wake: The image stays. The feeling stains. Exploring games in October rain.
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6. |
Moving Zack to Germany
02:14
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Turn the dial red and let the waves come in. Crack the windows; let it circle over my nose: powdered pink with the season. Purple footprints from the sun marching on.
Engine heat on cold feet, sore seat, cramping knees. I've been drifting from Toledo, Pioneer, Chicago to Milwaukee. Ice cream, fall grilling, Vietnamese, dark bars, highway speeds. Now from lower Wisconsin to Ohio alone I float east. Gas station corn dogs and coffee, new memories, toll road fees. Now I’m center-state Indiana with all my friends in the states surrounding. Our lives developing; it seems were not as young as we hoped to be. We maybe thought it’d be different, but early winter heat feels the same on my feet.
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Earthbook Toledo, Ohio
Earthbook is the solo project of Mark Gorey (Take Weight :: High Draw)
This is my
Earthbook: a sonic expression of journaling, traveling, describing, inspecting, & dissecting life on Earth through artistic/poetic songwriting and documentary-style concept albums and odes.
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Earthbook recommends:
Full band Earthbook morphs into Oak Heart
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Have some fun, punk!
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they only talk about the weather
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Fool Me As Many Times As You Like
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featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 29, 2023
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somebody had to
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The gentle lo-fi songs on the latest phoneswithchords LP develop their granular sketches of childhood and coming of age into full portraits.
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