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released April 14, 2017

All work Construction & Destruction.
Construction & Destruction are Colleen (Coco!) Collins, and David (Dave!) Trenaman.
All songs SOCAN.

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Construction & Destruction Port Greville, Nova Scotia

Spook rock book roll, emanating from the Atlantic littoral..

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Track Name: Peace / Agency
I don’t know its face,
I don’t know its shape,
I don’t know how to call it,
I don’t know how to keep it,

Peace! Agency!

I don’t know its face,
I don’t know its shape,
I don’t know how to call it,
I don’t know how to keep it,

Peace! Agency!
Track Name: Running Glass
See through the glint of running glass,
screwed up; brittle and easily shattered.
You shed or are shattered.
I pick up debris.

It seems like the itch is behind the mask.
Your fingers move futile;
steadily scanning;
every spare moment spoken for.

Night after night, spinning long fingers.
Cross, uncross and cross off the list.
Corner cobwebs knocked out with the blow of a kiss.

I am envious.
I am envious, drifting in and out of awareness.
A slight pull on the surface.
You’re a spider on water;
set adrift with the blow of a kiss.

Hark!
Out of the dark:
gleaming eyes and a little face.
Are you part of the house or part of the dark?
“Little things can die very suddenly”, you said to me.

Make!
Earthquake!
Flatten the driveway with your little rake.
I dream of the beach. I dream of the sea.
Salt air and the smell of sunscreen on every baby.
Oh, dream of me…
Track Name: Unfinished Horses
Un-leaven the bread.
Un-lay the parade.
Call off the cull;
mute the knell.

‘Cause I can’t get a hold
of the shifting perspective,
arms up to the elbow
in the Bocca della Verita.

Oh, horror vacui!
Oh, unfinished horses
and murdered darlings!
And all of our failures
in a sack in a river,
held under.

Tell me if I ever did a thing!

Who mourns the 'verberant white-nosed bat?
Cui bono, and who grieves the chaff?
Slack the hand, and un-taut the core and
give over to forces upbraiding the shore.

I do, I do, in a fit of pique.
Tropism lays its hand to my fitful cheek.
I do, I do, I do!
I do, I do, I do!
Track Name: One of These
Oh, the ease of routine sadness;
likely state.
Well worn in, making molehills out of mountains.

I have lungs for the foothills.
In my eyes, an impossible roundness.
Only a ready hand can palm this.
But your efforts are stomach-less.

I cannot taste it anymore.
I cannot take this.
These aren’t the days for this.
There’ll be other days…

Sadness comes in on the breeze,
dims the lamplight of your little port streets.
Rounding corners to get up to you;
it’ll find you.

I have eyes for the flat land.
I only sleep where I see the horizon.
I only dream what I have seen.
Sleepy course between the trees…

Oh sleep, you are the boat.
You keep my brain afloat.
Cut through the cake of waking life,
sheath my teeth with something nice,
and make it all good…
So good, so good, so good, so good,
so good, so good, so good, so good.
So good, so good, so good.

Sometimes light, sometimes shade,
Sometimes through you like a band saw blade.
So soft, so easy;
it comes with the real estate.

I belong to this land,
I belong to these trees.
I belong to these brittle little brown leaves.

Desperate patterns when I press on my eyes.
You come in dancing;
you were one of these.
Track Name: Participation Ache
Confederates and shills
crowd the uncanny valley,
but how have I gotten in?

Hamartia!
A quiver of barbs,
a margin of error,
a Perseus cluster of sorrow.

And all the books exsect
where the subject should be
and every utterance is struck through!

Mea culpa!
The tuning fork sings not;
says nothing, but my teeth are
still in the beast!

Fuck it!
Participation ache, I’m going at it
sideways again,
dear friends..
Track Name: Event Horizon
Your pen is a cantering horse,
And your fingers are type hammers.
You wrote it so hard in May,
it can still be read in November.

Your eyes have flight paths.
With a searing blade of focused light,
you observe as if in suspended animation,
in pursuit of the Event Horizon…

And when it dawns on you,
you mouth the singularity,
and stride off.

Why do we live when ten thousand things die a day?
I observe your gathered hair in a bun.
Everything in its place; a place for everyone,
standing on the shore of the Event Horizon..

And when it dawns on you,
you breath the singularity,
and fuck off!

You are on a tour of the Event Horizon!
Track Name: The Anchoress
Who inhabits the howling vacuum?
Who hales hard against the stone?
Who passes by, in piety and murder?

I had the dream of the rapacious wolves!
And when I woke, the room had weirdened
to an anchor-hold!

Who has thrown a hurtling chair
down the corridor of bygones
to smash, at my feet, in a heap?

Oh, convicted sisters!
Bent, and choking at the squint!
My mind is in a palsy,
and my heart is on a spit!

Who inhabits the howling vacuum?
Who hales hard against the stone?
Who passes by, in piety and murder?

And then the dream of the rapacious wolves!
And when I wake, the room has weirdened
to an anchor-hold!

Who has known a crumbling throng
of caryatids to flinch
though they smash, at the feet, in a heap?

Oh, convicted sisters!
Bent, and choking at the squint!
My mind is in a palsy,
and my heart is on a spit!

In the dark, in the dark restriction,
who comes forth?
What mantle wears that wolf?
What’s amiss?
What can’t I let out
before it’s fixed?
To what pithy cupboard have I gone,
to come back so empty?

Who amongst us is not at one time
a bag of ferrets ‘round the other?
Or unheard, and immured,
in the eaves?

Am I the said enclosure?
Am I a vessel of light?
Track Name: Rosebush
My want,
my word,
my love was a rosebush.

It conquered the yard.
It would creep where it chose.

And go as if nothing through garden and brambles.
And beat down your door like a rogue firehose!

Ooh my glut,
my guts!

Endlessly supping, the feedbag is topped off.
The manger is nothing; a fanciful feed-trough.

Let me get on and then let me get off!
Track Name: Lusus Naturae
Raptor, raptor, raptor:
which of us is thrashing?
Which of us is bating,
and at whose glove?

(Twisting in the wind,
swinging by the jesses-
lusus naturae!)

Is gravity love?
A weak force, a hold?
A talon in the forearm?
A kind of kid-glove fold?

(All I need’s a little of your
soft power…)

Melt down!
All the raw materials!
All the ingots of love,
all the instruments of—

Who can withstand the terrible logic?
The terrible ogling eye?
The velocity of the murmuration?
The dash against the sky?

(All I need’s a little of your
soft power-
imposter of love!)

(All I need’s a little of your
soft power-)
Track Name: Engines of Radiation
Sun’s ration hits the spot.
Every joint crackles and pops.
I’ve got a heart full of punctuation.

Break for lunch;
afternoon slump.
I hit the whole stack with a three hole punch.
I’ve got a heart full of punctuation.

Down the stairs again,
down the feedback hole.
Everything a strange articulation.
Rhythm of light, rhythm of light, rhythm of light;
engine of radiation!

Work stops;
wet mop.
We chit chat about your pastel top.
A sudden revelation:

ask me,
come with me,
make me free of all worldly degree
and this hopeless cultivation.

Rate of growth keeps inching us in.
Centuries-long asphyxiation.
Electric lights, electric lights, electric lights;
engines of radiation!

Count the stars again;
count the spaces.
Scatter stakes with blind habituation.
Too many to remember,
too many to remember,
too many to remember,
too many to remember!