Blackout Beach - "Deserter's Song"

As much as nothing is perfect, so must be everything. I found her initials in a penny. D.G. Regina. We were lovers for a time, we'd hold hands and make the shape of a hull. Fingers interlaced like the sides of a shipbottom. At the place we lived, old tenants received unchecked magazine subscriptions, piles of magazines, unread, a monster collage of ricocheted interests, Perrier & Gun. On the coffee table orphaned ants would wander and stray, over old buns, not a collar in sight. We put up posters "FOUND ANTS" but received no responses to aretheseyourants@gmail.com. I would pretend to leave the house, yell "Bye!" and shut the door, then stand in the foyer, sometimes for an hour, waiting. D.G. Regina would sing to herself, a voice like the breeze, played a rotted ghost guitar. I'd skip meals, flattened behind the winter coats, listening to her sing, I wanted the truth and not the trust-me face. I'd get so hungry. Swarms of hunger, great brick-walled hunger, satellite hunger. [Buy]

Lonnie in the Garden - "Said"

A forest is a cult, made up of impressionable trees. Soft wood, able to be swayed. A perfect cult, no telling who's the leader. [free]

(image of Frank & Louie, a 12-year-old Massachusetts cat with 2 faces)