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1.
2.
track: anastasia by: mourning dove lyrics: none
3.
Marigold 01:14
track: marigold by: mourning dove lyrics: o when i was old a ruptured soul spread amongst the marigold in the spring when anything is anything or anything i got very tired one day and i didn’t get up and nothing happened. the postman woke and he delivered on the other side of the door and the small animals crept around the spaces of the house and the cats raised their hackles about the neighborhood and a man spraying the fresh concrete shouted up at the sky that it was all done and painted but he wasn’t talking to god he was talking to another man and three old women in white stood outside a catholic church and talked in a very minute and particular way about very lovely small things and they grew closer and closer about the virgin mary and i didn’t get up and then the sun fell through the windows and cracks in my house (and through the cracks in my eyes, the cracks in my skull perhaps to penetrate some strange and ancient heart like an unlikely universe tucked in the darkening but this was not so and this was not so and this was not we didn’t buy anything at the grocery store. we drove there and jack wandered through the aisles singing about someone who had died and i slipped a block of cheese into my bag and then we both walked out and didn’t say anything and a woman who worked there came up to us to wish us a nice day and jack said yes, it is a very nice day in fact though jack didn’t know yet that he didn’t exist and that i made him up merely for the purpose of detailing this brief and entirely fictional episode which is also so pointless) because in fact, i had never gotten up, though i was wide awake i dreamed through the hours in a dark and i thought i was dying and it was true, i was dying and i thought i was living, and it was true, there was nothing more horrifying.
4.
Platform I 09:39
track: the platform i by: mourning dove, connor, brenna, evan, danielle, jon lyrics: none
5.
Platform II 02:35
track: the platform ii by: mourning dove lyrics: how you come so broken and bitter and like a lost island. i wake into a dream. we are always, in different ways, dying fills one in a while or in a tantrum of this is not i. maybe the deeper thing is that farthest from you, or maybe it is the truth. desperate shakes to be rid of oneself and back into the curvature of creation of fluidless fixation like the skin of the body of being no one. and of being no one? it is feckless, sad, a sunrise shamed into the storm cloud, a true undoing. if you were not, there would be no surrendering you. now that you are not, so you are, saddened but simple as the hole in the earth that is in the island that is the quarried gold that is the open wound that is the ache of the sky buried and then uncovered universe as holds, an ocean of sorrow. but then what is you, a whole world.
6.
About Jack 07:32
track: about jack by: mourning dove and cheerup lyrics: death is not at all in opposition to life i went grocery shopping and i needed to buy an apple not to eat to buy an apple because this is an example of an idea i had when i was grocery shopping to buy an apple but just because i was buying an apple (not to eat, for the idea) i decided not to buy the cheese because the apple and the cheese are two very different things and the absence of life is not necessarily death i went to a grocery store with an imaginary boy let’s call him jack, jack and i went to the grocery store and jack started to cry in the frozen goods section but we don’t know why. neither jack nor i know why he began to cry in the aisle next to the frozen peas. i looked at him and i said, well i don’t want to get you down i don’t want to get anyone down and that is what got him down, so to speak, but i hadn’t said anything and the boy wasn’t crying so we went to buy some milk because that is after all, what we came to the store to buy. i got very tired one day and i didn’t get up and nothing happened. the postman woke and he delivered on the other side of the door and the small animals crept around the spaces of the house and the cats raised their hackles about the neighborhood and a man spraying the fresh concrete shouted up at the sky that it was all done and painted but he wasn’t talking to god he was talking to another man and three old women in white stood outside a catholic church and talked in a very minute and particular way about very lovely small things and they grew closer and closer about the virgin mary and i didn’t get up and then the sun fell through the windows and cracks in my house (and through the cracks in my eyes, the cracks in my skull perhaps to penetrate some strange and ancient heart like an unlikely universe tucked in the darkening but this was not so and this was not so and this was not we didn’t buy anything at the grocery store. we drove there and jack wandered through the aisles singing about someone who had died and i slipped a block of cheese into my bag and then we both walked out and didn’t say anything and a woman who worked there came up to us to wish us a nice day and jack said yes, it is a very nice day in fact though jack didn’t know yet that he didn’t exist and that i made him up merely for the purpose of detailing this brief and entirely fictional episode which is also so pointless) because in fact, i had never gotten up, though i was wide awake i dreamed through the hours in a dark and i thought i was dying and it was true, i was dying and i thought i was living, and it was true, there was nothing more horrifying.
7.
track: i cannot hold anything in my hands any longer by: mourning dove & danielle & evan & jon & les enfants lyrics: we went to vermont to observe a man who, in being, barebacked, betrayed that he was a laborer and she said that she liked that his body said it was so. while the boy who was meant to be in the woods cried because he was leaving her in the parking lot outside the national guard and then we drove back from vermont. he went into the woods as we made new living rooms and hung lights and rearranged the artifice of our very separate and seemingly predestined lives and she said it was a beautiful day and it was a beautiful day and soon it would be over but for the several motorcyclists as they made their way over the horizon and into the dusk of our lives that were not our lives any longer and i couldn’t hold anything in my hands any longer, and the sun grazed my face in its everlasting light as it sunk and sunk and there were large pockets of air sucked in and out of his chest as he sobbed which was not even uncanny, it was normal. and tragedy was boring, and nothing made sense and we were wrapped like saplings around each other in a dead fog, grown into and out of the earth with only the sullen protestations of ourselves but i wanted to feel at home when we reached the morgue or onward for the mass burial in an unnamed pit on an island where nobody can feel our unfeelingness, that is and i have already encountered this, it’s true but these days mostly, i am most familiar with the bus station between here and maryland or is it delaware i know it when i see it, it makes my heart swell like a strange ugly beast blindly faltering its way through the orifices of mother earth who lies in coma through the toxic frenzy of our lives and she said it was a beautiful day. and it was beautiful, i could find you in your house, your bones cracked and uncracked in everlasting light and i could look you in the eye, i could say hello. i could run myself into the ground or a clear bottomless lake thoughtlessly, with all the world of dreaming held intact though i knew what it was i could not hold anything, not even the dying sun, or the moon as it fades from us as we lose the children of ourselves and so are plunged into ultimate undoing. to know that you will and have and continue to exist is a miracle were it just a thought i had on a rainy day when i was walking by myself as the sky collected its darkness into a sound that was like quietude or even nakedness. and synonymously,that you and i come to the end it is no question but the barest certainty of my brief and unconscionable soul. ________________________________________ track: sofa by: mourning dove lyrics: the porch in a deep late spring fog when the leaves are now really out and full of green temperature and clouds that could be gathered like the word we once used to call them clouds before they were clouds maybe you are there standing as you once did or maybe you never put on that record anyway, it was all rewritten. we used to sit on the wall far enough away to talk without you hearing but close enough to watch you play the harmonica until i said aloud that how you moved was a sleep of a different kind and i drew another you who was not awake as the you you but in a scribbled sleep across the sofa where later you lay on the day you were i thought going away but you were not going away but have become something that cannot be felt like a look and never any word could we go then back to the station as it became a shrine for the thoughts of that year passing as the snow was falling outside after we left the place where we said goodbye on the sofas that have been moved away from the fire without those sadnesses how could we have marked time now we no longer mark time but still it moves through a body leaving ghosts? what did you do with my picture on a plastic card where my face is worn away and the drawing i gave you of the girl who is not me crying or even your own portrait as i have kept the extra prayers you wanted to get rid of to something you may have no faith in? just to know if it was real that we knew each other for a little while i am afraid you walk through my dreams nightly and in those dreams i walk through your house here are the remains of all who lived in a house i could never really believe you exist as that building still stands with the trail to the tracks behind and every night the trains still echo along the water as they did that night as the landscape gathers into this or that or love and loss more than ever could be held i might know where to find you at the end of world in this blessing which is to go as we started, alone
8.
Sofa 15:06
track: sofa by: mourning dove lyrics: the porch in a deep late spring fog when the leaves are now really out and full of green temperature and clouds that could be gathered like the word we once used to call them clouds before they were clouds maybe you are there standing as you once did or maybe you never put on that record anyway, it was all rewritten. we used to sit on the wall far enough away to talk without you hearing but close enough to watch you play the harmonica until i said aloud that how you moved was a sleep of a different kind and i drew another you who was not awake as the you you but in a scribbled sleep across the sofa where later you lay on the day you were i thought going away but you were not going away but have become something that cannot be felt like a look and never any word could we go then back to the station as it became a shrine for the thoughts of that year passing as the snow was falling outside after we left the place where we said goodbye on the sofas that have been moved away from the fire without those sadnesses how could we have marked time now we no longer mark time but still it moves through a body leaving ghosts? what did you do with my picture on a plastic card where my face is worn away and the drawing i gave you of the girl who is not me crying or even your own portrait as i have kept the extra prayers you wanted to get rid of to something you may have no faith in? just to know if it was real that we knew each other for a little while i am afraid you walk through my dreams nightly and in those dreams i walk through your house here are the remains of all who lived in a house i could never really believe you exist as that building still stands with the trail to the tracks behind in a shamed solitude we are dead, which is many things. which is to walk from my empty dark house to your empty dark house in the early hours before the light changes and to sit in silence as we never do. because living makes you so afraid while i am reasoned sad and regardless care for too many things as you do putting all these syllables into boxes to be found again in the evening, the insect orchestra will descend you can put these summer berries on your plate and eat them you can wile away this night and tomorrow’s too you may be looking for me in these dreams but i cannot be looking for you. i am the ghost itself which is motionless and can be felt only when it moves from one room to the next in devotion to a love long since extinguished or when i put a lock of hair in this envelope and pitch it into the matanzas. as the lights burn on, unfelt in some lonely corner of the world in some starry corridor it leads nowhere but from one dream to another i am not sure i’ll ever be able to pass time very well as my grandmother who is never bored there is no lyricism in this spring, blossoming all the sweet boys are so full of shame if you look them in the eyes, not even when we walk the garden at sundown where once he sobbed with these doorways which open and open to wide green lawns of short thick grasses, and the marble pillars between which once we lay open to the world which when it became ours was useless. it is like taking a walk with you though it has been so long and it would be so hard really to- take a walk- with you- whereupon i dreamt that i was telling you of a dream i had in which i was meant to give you a lock of my hair.
9.
track: a lock of hair by: mourning dove lyrics: i cannot say the you if i were to say you whose kindnesses are particular, cannot be exhausted who dares the audience along in every conversation which then severs language into the familiar and unwelcome. i cannot tell you you are lost as though it were the fault of the spring in coming so late- overheated, willed by dreams where thinking is flying and there is always someone to get away from not an escape but sadness so thick we could get (as threatened) on the freight which was just beyond those january trees as seen from the rehabilitation center in 2016- were you ever alone that year, you said you wanted to be alone that year? you stayed through the sun’s long silences, these that spilled through windows of which there were so many in that prison of yourself which was profound you imagined being taken out of your body, hoped for it every night but to be on earth, it is to pretend, there are things to do here as though this the city which has a fractured council and overlooks that river wasn’t the universe’s thoughts all condensed where time has its own station, you might leave your feeling towards me outside the door where a stray animal recognizes a few bloodied objects that could be me, a squirrel, or you expired as simple as the sun at this roadside does that vulture still walk unbalanced in the wood in pursuit i could, maybe, forget you, in the coming years i might not be thinking or taken up by others who live curiously in the backgrounds of old films anonymous and now passed on like the grandson of a statesman who sank opiates
10.
Anastasia 05:23
track: anastasia by: mourning dove lyrics: none
11.

about

while we were away
by the unknown sound collective
(mourning dove & cheerup & danielle & evan & jon & les enfants & djimon)
thank you dani dobkin
________________________________________

a first flower blooms in the darkness
crossing the waterfall
marigold
platform i
platform ii
about jack
i cannot hold anything in my hands any longer
sofa
a lock of hair
anastasia
the golden hour at the end

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Muteant Sounds (net label) Florida

MuteAnt Sounds (netlabel) is in our 10TH!!!! year of distributing, sharing, posting and releasing the world’s finest experimental, noise, free jazz, no-fi ambient space jazz free form sound ever recorded.

Started as a tape trading label in the 90's, website in the 2000's, Full blown netlabel in the 2010's.
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