High-quality limited edition hardbound artbook with John William Carroll's poems typeset and 13 original illustrations by Reuben Butchart. Book contains over 32 pages and compact disk.
Also includes immediate download of 8-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.
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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
I bought two flower bulbs,
each in an unmarked paper cup.
I asked the Asian proprietor as he wrapped them up,
"What will they be? What is their name...?"
I repeated it louder, but language wasn't to blame.
The question itself disoriented him.
"Does it matter?" he said as he counted out change.
East met West in that simple exchange.
A fern I brought home didn't make it,
but I let it hang in the window
orange as a clown's wig
set in cascades of green:
snaking philodendron an sky-rocketing wandering jew.
Trustworthy plants whose names I knew.
Even in a dry empty cup,
each bulb pushed out roots
grey and thin as hairs on a witch's chin
and, on top, a pigtail of wan stem,
stretched to unite the earth with the sun.
That's their real name, when all is said and done.
I cradled my orphans deep in the fern,
like twins in a fairy tale hid deep in the wood
told "Wait here. And don't cry."
But never told why.
I watered. I waited. I nearly forgot.
So, how come this morning
I climb on a chair and peek into the clay pot?
They bloomed blue in a blue hour.
Two flowers on each stem opened
simultaneous as eyes in surprise.
Outside the window a feather snow drifted
through a cat's cradle of cable and clothesline.
Stray cats with collars turned up
patrolled falling down fences and sheds
makeshift as forts we built up
in the woods, when we were kids,
hiding out, learning to smoke,
perfecting the syntax of swears,
punctuations of spit,
plotting our getaways to anywheres,
when we would get tall
and grow into our names.
The twins and I stare out,
as we fall through a light of a day
we know we did not make.
The slow snow takes its time;
knowing the fall is everything.
No sooner does a flake touch down
than it goes quick and wet,
as a perfunctory kiss goodbye.
Nameless and awake,
the three of us wait
thought never told why.
We shall not cry.
from Nameless and Awake: Eight Poems by John William Carroll,
released January 1, 2012
John William Carroll: Poem
Reuben Butchart: Voice, Piano
John Bollinger: Drums
Matt Darriau: Clarinet, Bass Clarinet
Jason DiMatteo: Acoustic Bass
Katie Down: Flute, Ukulele
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