1. |
Hands of Dust
04:07
|
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The carpenter shivers as a dirty snow sets in:
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
You lower an eye to see your hand in hers held in rust.
Your grip loosens from her fingers,
From her features, like open wounds,
Loosens from her face, pale with knowing.
Knowledge falls to nudity. A house burns in the snow.
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2. |
Pomegranate Chains
04:04
|
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Jachin and Boaz holding hands upon Ornan’s floor,
The house of Parvaim stands between.
Hands of Solomon grace our necks,
Pomegranate chains are brought down.
We are the brothers of the temple of the Lord.
Sixty cubits long, twenty wide, and thirty high.
The ark’s burden is brought inside.
On the ashes of a joyful house,
The ark’s burden is brought inside.
All say, Amen.
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3. |
Blue Red Purple
03:06
|
|||
Angels like dancers twirl across this veil.
Sweetly dripping off their tongues lilt warnings of
The purifying death perched behind this many-colored curtain:
The Day of Atonement has come.
He waits for you.
He waits for you.
Blue, red, purple.
Scrubbing hands and sacrifice,
The high priest parts the curtain.
Smoke steals the dim glow of burning incense and
Dulls the eyes, hides the hand
(One that trembles as offered up).
The taste of copper comes inside.
The taste of copper comes inside.
Blue, red, purple.
Twenty cubits by
Twenty cubits.
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4. |
Our Line of Work
03:18
|
|||
Your shirt is filthy, my dear,
And for that, my dear,
I’m sorry,
Mother says.
Father replies,
It comes with our line of work,
So that dour look won’t do.
And the boy agrees.
He’s a working man now.
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5. |
The Carpenter's Son
04:38
|
|||
A calloused fingertip
Traces the sand, graces your
Lifeless lip.
Is not this--
A palmful of nails,
Between fingers we lean.
The Passover falls stale.
Is not this the carpenter’s son?
Whom do you seek?
Put your sword in its sheath.
Peter answered,
You are the Christ.
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6. |
Hung on Nails
03:23
|
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7. |
Into My Palm
02:11
|
|||
A whole house will need rebuilding,
And I am glad of another death.
To my Father’s stay, I have told you the way,
That where he is, you may.
Come to me, all who labor.
Into my palm, put your finger.
Through the thorny threshold is a fire by hardwood,
Is a rug by burnt wood.
You may...
|
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8. |
Stretch Out Your Hands
03:19
|
|||
You raise an eye to see.
You raise an eye to see.
|
Once More Around Lansing, Illinois
Psychedelic Praise & Worship
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