*i wrote a song again. and again. music & instrumental by Nathan Hall Flowers all are falling now bowing in the sun There is nothing holding back you from coming undone Wonder where those trains have gone wish they’d wait for me Coal’s what keeps the streetlights on sunsets burn for free Sleep is like your leaving back shadows at my feet Faster goes the day that’s done all that’s bitter is sweet Skyline’s bleeding honey and no one seems alarmed I would like to bottle some light in this train yard Beauty hurts to look straight at I don’t close my eyes When the stars come pouring out I’ll play seek and find Nighttime slowly swallows this place I’ll look for you Waiting for the dark to come ain’t so bad with two Will you come and grant me one last quiet dance? Mountains curve their backs to rest in this sleepy land All is still and hushed to see what will happen now Whistles sigh and call your name can you hear that sound? Playing pups are tumbling by the dusty tracks Train cars rumble through the town wish you could see that Don’t know what the night’ll bring maybe dreams of you Morning’s not so far away it could still come true Flowers all are falling now bowing in the sun There is nothing holding back you from coming undone Wonder where those trains have gone wish they’d wait for me Coal’s what keeps the streetlights on sunsets burn for free  hunting for pokémon in whitesburg Return to the Kentucky Collection.
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shadow shapes are not always telling of the grace with which creatures prowl  Return to the Kentucky Collection.
*wrote another song I’ve been away for awhile now (oh oh) Looking for my own place out of town (oh oh oh) There’s a girl you said used to live here downstairs in this house Don’t you remember that was me your granddaughter, your baby You taught me how to sing how to be louder than anything even if you were shorter than everyone else in the room You weren’t ever afraid to make the whole world your own stage I can’t believe I was ever embarrassed by you And I can’t remember if I ever said it enough And if I did I wonder how much of it stuck Akong Akong Did I say I love you ever Akong Akong I’m losing my mind to this storm Hold on I am coming back for you I will sing you all of your favorite songs I am booking my flight to New York (oh oh) Why do I find it so hard to go? (oh oh oh) I’m afraid to see what I’ll find in my family when all of you is a memory we lost when all of you is a memory we lost You taught me how to drink that is, drink all the sweetness of good company diabetes of cheesy stories never ever killed anyone You loved us all so much how could I look for myself as you fall out of touch and lose more of yourself every passing day And I can’t remember if I ever said it enough And if I did I wonder how much of it stuck What am I even saying? Even if you forget me Even though I’m far from ready I’ll be that faceless girl Singing you to sleep Akong Akong Did I say I love you ever Akong Akong I’m losing my mind to this storm Hold on I have come back for you together let us sing all your favorite songs together let us sing all your favorite songs Return to the Kentucky Collection.
when a child knocks on the fortress door— the nightlight makes her bedroom dance with things that want to eat her —guilt pulls sticky limbs from the mess of sheets and mumbled kisses it feels selfish to beg a place to remember me, just long enough until i can return to search for myself again when all my grandfather can do is forget  Return to the Kentucky Collection.
Suppose we'd be beautiful together? and fairy lights dripping over the bar doorway also make me look sweeter in the half-light shoulders draped over lazily with a fog shawl left over from the rain would the shape of my eyes be known for the mind it let peek through? Suppose the roads that crumble away at their edges into the rusty orange creek that has been drowning the same car without an engine for years now open their battered backs to my feet like an invitation or late night phone call from mother begging daughter to visit before she forgets her name too along with everything else, diseased into an afterthought would the smile in my voice echo in their teeth? Suppose I came back for you? and you rained the creek into an ocean, the fog into a maze, the roads into rubble and I still came back what then?  Return to the Kentucky Collection.
my fingers don't look the same as they used to I've been disappearing for so long that I forgot to look but now that I'm looking they're red as a confession five to each hand, one to each knuckle of a punch I never saw coming I don't know if those fists were disappearing too or if I just can't see anymore but he called me Oriental and I called him out and we were both confused by how suddenly lonely we were  Return to the Kentucky Collection.
It’s good to be young here It’s good to take a picture and flick the last cigarette butt at his shadow It’s good to trip over a skateboard and promise you’d used to be good at it and swig the last mouthful of daylight and let it coat your throat It’s good to grab the rope swing and forget to let go and let go and walk around with bruises on the backs of your thighs for days after you toweled off and almost died on the hike back to the car It’s good to fall in love and out of love with the idea of it It’s good to overheat your car and have to walk It’s good to forget and not mean to forget but the walkways and stones that built the town are the sleeping bones of everything the dead people hoped you’d remember and then you heard that song on the radio and remembered It’s good to fight for someone else’s life and explain to the elders why it’s good to do it It’s good to eat dinner and call everything that tastes right “mamaw’s cooking” It’s good to learn how to love the voice of the banjo It’s good to tell your secret and make it our secret It’s good to fall silent and in love with the way the clouds have pressed their faces against the necks of the mountains It’s good to buy too much soap from that woman who looks tired It’s good to bless the kitten that sneezed and now won’t stop following you It’s good to sip it from the jar and want to spit it out it’s good to hear that song and remember It’s good to pretend that you belong until no one is looking at you anymore It’s good to tip extra It’s good to learn to bake when you don’t know a better way to say thank you It’s good to have gone through so much shit that they mistake you for one of them and the old lady insists that you are no younger than twenty-seven even though God told you that you'd be dead long before then It’s good to let the dogs lick you and worry about the rash later It’s good to trust him tonight and never pick up tomorrow It’s good to see a dead deer by the road and feel nothing It’s good to stop the car to help the turtle cross It’s good to ask for a ghost story and regret it later that night it’s good to sing that song when you remember and want to forget  Return to the Kentucky Collection.
i learned how to pray again even though i knew how even though i thought i knew Cowan, again, had something to teach me & maybe it still has to do with God & maybe the ladybug i crushed under a blind thumb that realized its mistake far too late will be the last innocent person i will be allowed to hurt but i felt my skin cinch and tug into a touch-me-not cradled as it were in their sunlight it, the light, pouring forth from the love these people brought here made me either a healed thing or that which will heal others & the words the prayer said didn’t even matter  Return to the Kentucky Collection.
home i run lost child in the mall at sundown she runs hides full rack of velvet that would make a coal miner sneeze home she can't remember what her mother looks like it's been twenty minutes, almost i still look in places filled with things that belong to other people run away from crowded faces to search for in my loneliness home  Return to the Kentucky Collection.
I was a surprise baby, slipped into the kitchen counter nestled in some paper that crackled under the weight of us. A machine milking something dark and bitter rumbled a greeting. It had been morning for awhile now, but the people were still waking up. How good of the hands that brought us here, I thought, to make us fruits of the happiest time of day. To be still-warm with sleep and sunshine dribbling from the window. I rolled a little against the basket when she blew in, haste practiced and used to taking up space. Her sandals hushed against the carpet as she noticed my intrusion. I shivered a bit under her gaze. The shock of chilled fingers against my skin was swept quickly away at the comfort of being held. I'd traveled a long way to meet her lips, but such makes the moment of finding myself home all the sweeter.  Return to the Kentucky Collection.
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