1. |
Archibald Street
05:10
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|
I.
I showed up on your doorstep
last night
with my heart
filling the cracks in my teeth.
My fingers
were restless in my hair—
threading through those inside thoughts
we don’t talk about.
We sat in your breezeway
locking our mouths,
hoping it gets better,
But does it ever get better?
“It’s a nice night to die.”
we both held our eyes in the dimness
latticing our frozen bottles
and frozen dreams.
The clouds masked the stars,
And the gas we had left
wouldn’t take us
past Montpelier.
The last thing
I wanted you to know
was that I didn’t
want to see you go.
II.
I woke up with the sun—
only half-dead
on the inside—
and I cried,
cold and shaking
on your kitchen floor
with no place
to hide.
My lungs still walked
with an extra pace in their step,
And my heart still ached
the same.
My lungs still walk
with an extra pace in their step,
and I’m the one
to blame.
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2. |
Willow I
02:38
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|
Our house
the garden
my body
burn it
I don’t want it
anymore.
I want your hair
in the sheets
in my clothes
in my food.
I want to lie
on the floor
on the grass
on my back,
wherever
you’ll find me—
forever, if need be.
I want to
be where you are
talk out loud
hear when you say,
You saw the squirrel again, today.
I want you to
stare in my eyes
yawn
and pant.
I want to be where you are.
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3. |
Willow II
03:04
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|
This pressure,
this pain,
is my body
coming up against a wall
and not seeing it
as a wall,
but instead
as a field
in which I can grow,
in which I can throw
Willow her ball that
she’ll never run towards.
Still, I’ll throw it again
and I’ll pet her
and I’ll tell her
without you
I can’t make sense
of my life,
and she will tell me
it’s alright,
alright,
and it
will be
alright.
There is a life
outside my body
calling for me.
Today
I want to take it
seriously.
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4. |
Your Eyes
03:11
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|
If you let me sit here
and know you
by the color of your eyes,
I will know you
as I know the grass as green,
the tomato ripe red.
I will be on the edge of you
surrounded by you
on the edge of you.
You will become fact.
It will be known regardless
of recurring change:
Your eyes will be your eyes always
honey brown
with rings of blue.
And I will know
as I know lying in the grass
or eating the tomato
you connect me to something,
something I didn’t know
was missing,
something I don’t know
how to name.
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5. |
FFFA
04:07
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|
I.
With sweaty palms
I heard your voice
from a payphone
in New York State.
Could’ve sworn
I heard you calling for me,
“Baby, please come home,”
but it was just the dial tone.
II.
If commitment
becomes
a hollow word
for me to say
and loneliness
grows
with every smile
on my face,
what the hell
am I doing here?
III.
I live for my dog
when I’m alone,
but she won’t live forever,
don’t tell me, I know.
It only worries me
when I wake up from sleep,
and I’d rather kill myself
than go to work.
I’m terrified to make
calls from my phone,
I’d rather not bother
the people I know.
I’d rather let
the weights
weigh me down
than let it out.
IV.
If the whiskey burns harder, my dear,
fill them up taller, I’m dealing with my fears:
These nights I’d rather forget
than actually be here.
Growing old without stories to tell
of how I fell in love again.
Growing comfortable with myself,
so I can be comfortable when you leave me.
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6. |
Loon Lake
04:05
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I.
Down by the water’s edge
I found a flat black rock
with no edges, no marks.
It seemed, in whatever
form it was, to be pure,
and it made me uncomfortable.
I took it in my palm,
wrapped my finger
around its curve,
and hurled it toward the water,
where it slid,
twisted, and turned
until it was gone.
In every ripple
lingered a thought of you—
brushing your hair;
dancing in the kitchen
as we wait
for the rice to cook;
burying your nose
in the thyme
growing in the sun room—
and I wailed like a loon,
but nothing called back.
I couldn’t hear you.
II.
I’m sick of being on the road
missing what’s at home
I never thought I wouldn’t want to do this anymore.
I’m sick of counting mile signs
feeling like I’m doing time
I never thought I wouldn’t want to do this anymore.
What if Willow died
when I wasn’t there
by her side?
And what about Montana,
on the side of the road?
I don’t want to die that far from home.
This game of risk/reward
doesn’t make sense
anymore.
I want to wail
like a loon
and hear you call back.
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7. |
On Days Soon To Pass
04:10
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I.
Lately, when I’m alone,
I can’t even feel my bones.
The summer sun is setting west,
and I’ve given up all hope
of coming home
before the snow begins again.
II.
Last night, in bed,
I felt a lack in my chest.
You see, I’ve been afraid to tell you,
you appear in every thought of the future:
the blueberry bushes mature
and we’re still here;
Lu and Willow rest buried in the yard
and we’re still here.
But it’s nights like these,
When I’m not right in the head,
when I’m wishing I were dead
that I think:
how can I expect you
to see things the way I do
if I’m counting on you
to pull me through?
III.
O love, how can I find you
if the only thing I’ve been looking for
is a way to love myself a little more?
O love, how can I feel you
if the only thing I’ve been living for
will die before I do?
O love, how can I bear to see your face
if I’m not sure you’ll love me
anymore?
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8. |
When I Think Too Much
05:51
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I.
There’s a memory of us
next to a fire in the woods.
Dancing in the smoke,
we were up to no good.
There were bottles on the ground
and a smile on your face.
But when Autumn came around,
you grew tired of me,
tired of your clothes,
tired like the leaves,
and when I saw you falling, spiraling,
I knew I couldn’t catch you.
II.
There’s a memory of us
in the car by your parents’ house.
I think I told you I love you,
but I can’t remember the sounds.
The moon, the snow, the world
was brighter than me.
III.
Am I better off
dead?
Am I better off
in the books you’ve read?
Am I better off
inside your head?
No, no,
I don’t think so anymore.
IV.
Who am I
to decide I’m the one for you?
I’m terrified,
and I’ve already ripped myself in two.
Where would I go
if I died?
Where can I go
since I’m still alive?
What if
I don’t want to be anywhere?
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9. |
All At Once
04:49
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You could have left me
with frost-paled rosy cheeks
When I passed out drunk
on the side of the street.
The snow would’ve buried me
would’ve eased me to sleep
Where Willow would’ve
pranced round my feet.
But you didn’t; you chose,
to carry me home,
To thaw me
in your arms.
You are everything, all at once,
and I’m ready.
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Tyler Daniel Bean Burlington, Vermont
Over a decade, Tyler Daniel Bean grew from a person and a guitar into a community of twenty or so friends from around the US. Ten releases and 350 odd shows later, they have primarily paused. But the core of the music remains: it is recognizing that functioning in the face of fear is striving to be human; it is finding a way to say "I want to live," even recognizing the relentlessness of it all. ... more
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