Solotramp's Podcast

November 2007
S	M	T	W	T	F	S

				1	2	3
4	5	6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15	16	17
18	19	20	21	22	23	24
25	26	27	28	29	30

Thu, 22 November 2007

I originally wrote "Bodies" after a conversation with a bulemic. It was among the first I recorded after my surgery (quite body conscious then!) and experimented again with the sound. I decided to re-do it, so here it is, a bit different. Another change I still want to make in it . . . next time. . .

Bodies
This body slid into the world
with perfect limbs
lungs . . . and innocence

for years it did
all the things
bodies should do
moving breathing
crying cringing
from bumps falls burns
bleeding touching
he sweet the bitter
he sour salt

sleeping under blankets
and beneath stars
seeing objects
and plants and animals
hearing music
and voices
and clicks and creaks

Maybe we don't enjoy
the way our bodies
hurt or give warning
or the rough hands
that press into our ribs
the bite and itch and burrow
of feeding insects
the way cold can be too cold
or hot too hot
and how viruses make us ill

when do we learn we're not to love these bodies?
their colors their shapes the sounds they make?
the marks and scars that hint at our most dramatic stories?

we conceal our bodies
some of us even keep
out the lights
so our lovers will not judge
our bodies as harshly
as we do ourselves

those who remove their clothes
have the bodies we're supposed to have
implanted liposuctioned rhinoplastied bo-flexed
waxed like fruit in a display ad

how do we come
to be conscious
of bodies
and then despise our own?
these bodies
that entered the world
to do the things
that bodies do . . .
these bodies that cook everything
we can ever taste of life

(c) 2007 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Direct download: Bodies_2007.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 1:02am MST

Sat, 17 November 2007

Ode to a Glen

ODE TO A GLEN

Come now
into the shady glen
with the ferns
underfoot

a brook
enters from
a mysterious
opening
in the dark soil
and tumbles rock
to smooth stone

the leaves
shift
to allow
dappling
of light
over
the old log
we sit upon
in this quiet
place
where
so much
happens
without words

take in the scent
of humus
and
yesterday's rain

fingertip
to
fingertip
we breathe in
a moment
that cannot
be revoked

Direct download: Ode_to_a_Glen.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 12:32pm MST