
Listen
Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Catabasis”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
The lift in my head jams halfway. You meet me between floors, sit on the tile, say nothing. You hand me an orange; we breathe. Your phone goes dark, a saint refusing miracles. No fix. You stay. Slow hands. Soft gaze. We make a fort of blankets; the day waits outside. One small joke to set a beat. My pride lets go. “Nothing is ruined”—not true, and kind enough. Rescue is seldom clean, or once, or neat. Company lays rungs from breath to feet. You cue a song we only hum. You count to four. The dark forgets its sums. When the crawl begins again, you fetch the dog and a plan— shining for no reason. We try it because we can. Three dull shopfronts, christened after saints. The pavement keeps the count. Your turn will come. I’ll cup your name like a match against crosswind; bring two oranges, a dead phone, the same clean lie that makes it almost true. Somewhere a lift unsticks its doors a thumb-width. The dog settles, chin on knee. Outside, the light goes on unbriefed.
Lyrics
the lift in my head jams halfway you meet me at floor between you sit on the tiles, no speeches you pass me an orange, we breathe you set your phone to nothing a black glass that won’t ring you say we can lie like saints who failed at the sainting thing no fix, just stay slow hands, soft gaze go down, hold name come up, still same you make a fort from blankets you fold the day outside you toss one joke for rhythm the panic drops its pride you say nothing is ruined false, correct, still kind a clean lie that helps a body is mercy in a line few words, warm tea let time unfreeze go down, hold name come up, still same most cannot be rescued not clean, not once, not neat but company makes ladders out of breath and feet you cue a song in silence we hum the ghost of drums you count to four with fingers the dark forgets its sums sit, don’t mend be near, be friend go down, hold name come up, still same when worms show teeth inside me you fetch a dog and plan the plan is dumb and shining we try it ‘cause we can we leave the room for weather we walk the bad-lit block we name three dull shop windows we let the pavement talk small tests, small light left foot, then right go down, hold name come up, still same your turn will come like weather I’ll carry your name like flame cupped match against crosswind I’ll guard its thin small frame I’ll bring two round oranges I’ll bring the dead phone too I’ll say nothing is ruined and make it almost true I will not tidy I will not preach go down, hold name come up, still same blink once for stay twice for tea no rush, no scale just you and me go down, hold name come up, still same go down, hold name come up, still same mercy keeps the seam



No published comments yet.