1.    Thank You For Last Time 

(Nagel)

to everything that I adore 
in this isolated world: 
fates and furies, nights unfurled

time – fiction – time – fiction

mounds of graymoss in the fields 
reptiles swelling to reveal 
cracks of their tectonic scales

time – fiction – time – fiction

outer space must pale in comparison to this 
other-worldly landscape of darkening bliss

I head to sands that are still belted by a sash of volcanic boulders 
it’s strange to be back again - 20 years on and feeling much older 
like looking in a mirror through a hazy lens, backwards over your shoulder 
later we search for the cottage, on the coastline where I stayed

waters rich in alkaline 
write a somnolent slow sweep 
dreams tilt on the edge of sleep

time – fiction – time – fiction

each departure is a loss 
each farewell is something gained 
time stealing itself from time

time – fiction – time – fiction

outer space must pale in comparison to this 
other-worldly landscape of darkening bliss

here it stands – Bakkasel, my age 
I know that both our stories have changed 
I walk past expanses of green and unused foundations 
everything is dying or in a state of gestation 
the corrugated slopes bleed into the sky like an impressionist painting

2.    Every House Gets Dark When the Sun Goes Down 

(Nagel)

he said, “my thoughts are a jigsaw 
got to start at the edges and work your way in 
I can’t explain – I’ve forgotten the picture 
there’s nothing but the surface of a table beneath 
and every time I try - pieces go flying 
I tip things over just to see if they’ll break 
it’s been a raw day - everything’s bleeding 
could you stay a little longer on the line with me?

I know that you can’t tell me your story 
and you won’t tell me that I am wrong 
but that’s okay 
that’s okay

I’m like a twister trapped in a cradle 
I’m just an illness nobody sees  
I’m tired of this world that we live in
and I want someone to listen to the people I’ve been

was a time I was someone who fixed things 
but fortune flicked a switch and now the power is gone 
tell me – do you ever feel lonely? 
does every house get dark when the sun goes down?

I know that you can’t tell me your story 
and you won’t tell me that I’m enough 
but that’s okay 
that’s okay

I’m like a twister trapped in a cradle  
I’m just an illness nobody sees  
I’m tired of this world that we live in  
and I want someone to listen to the people I’ve been

I’m like a twister trapped in a cradle
I’m just an illness nobody sees  
I’m so tired of this world that we live in 
and I want someone to listen to the people I’ve been”

3.    Equinox 

(Nagel)

here’s to the impossible you 
here’s to the impossible me

I conjecture 
every untold manner of truth 
in the darkest corners 
of my longing 
to be someone who I cannot be 
now the path that I seek 
is converging 
with the arbitrariness of 
what I couldn’t have known 
would become defining

is this what love is?

here’s to the impossible you 
here’s to the impossible me

I am mourning 
every untold manner of truth 
in the darkest corners 
of my longing 
to have been someone who 
I could not be 
and paradoxically 
to be certain 
that the narratives that are limiting me 
are also what set me free

is this what love is?

here’s to the impossible you 
here’s to the impossible me

is this what love is?...

4.    Carmen 

(Nagel / Dublin)

Carmen, seated in a denim dress 
raises her glass to the one behind the camera 
in her eyes there is tenderness 
she always was the one to offer you protection

a single mother down on Filbert Street 
she had the spirit of a Premier League defender: 
“it’s only morning and you’re still to live your day” – 
you hear her voice as it carries over Leicester

these are her chords 
they are the bittersweet fruit 
this is her groove 
now let the song take care of you

Carmen’s waiting in the afternoon light 
and when she smiles at you it kills you from the inside 
you know that when she tells you “it will be alright” 
her body’s broken but she’s ready to fly

these are her chords 
they are the bittersweet fruit 
this is her groove 
now let the song take care of you

these are your chords 
they are the bittersweet fruit 
this is your groove
now let the song take care of you

these are her chords…

5.    The Magic Pebble 

(Nagel)

rain is falling to the ground – 
a mystery, luminous and round 
draws him close without a sound 
until the yearning dares to speak aloud

if you could have anything 
whatever you desire 
if you could ask for everything 
all your hopes and plans 
what would be the price you’d pay 
to finally understand?

in his haste the fear takes hold 
turns his little hooves to stone 
a teardrop falls again – alone 
in wishing, he has lost the life he’s known

if you could have anything 
whatever you desire
if you could ask for everything 
all your hopes and plans 
what would be the price you’d pay 
to finally understand?

if you could have anything 
whatever you desire 
if you could ask for everything 
all your hopes and plans 
what would be the price you’d pay 
what sacrifices would you make 
to find out who you are and then 
to finally understand?

6.    True Names 

(Nagel)

over the roar of the sea, under the gaze of the stars 
I let the jealousy take root, carried rage in my heart 
played the air between my hands without an orchestra to lead 
until the darkness split asunder and unleashed a faceless dream

I was frightened of leaving and desperate to be gone 
pursued by something formless, relentlessly alone 
restless whispers sang to me, on restless winds they came: 
“seek that which seeks you – everything has a name”

until this, I was nothing 
until this, I was nothing

I was a shadow 
I was a shadow

on the mirror of the sea, under the gaze of the stars 
will you bear witness to this, faithful Estarriol? 
and gather my remains, if to doubt my self succumbs – 
youth is so impatient; it is the learning that is long

you knew better than anyone 
its likeness is my own 
two voices are one voice 
both speaking my name

I am the shadow 
I am the shadow…

7.    Radical Engines

(Nagel)

créons, chantons! 
faites face á la peur 
donnons naissance 
soyons auteurs*

we find ourselves in darkness 
we find ourselves in darkness 
we find ourselves without words 
we find ourselves without words

créons, chantons! 
faites face á la peur 
donnons naissance 
soyons auteurs

we find ourselves in darkness 
we find ourselves without words 
the earth keeps moving 
the earth keeps moving

créons, chantons!
faites face á la peur 
donnons naissance 
soyons auteurs

*let’s create, let’s sing! 
face fear 
give birth 
be authors

 
8.    Such a Diffident Child

(Nagel)

the first time that I saw her she was underneath a table 
her inscrutable expression, like the moral to a fable 
showed that little acts of kindness are never to be wasted 
but the little acts of cruelty can still be more persuasive – 
as I reached for her she hid her face behind her hair 
disappearing in the edgeless silhouette of neither here nor there.

for what felt like eternity she didn’t say a word 
in time she must have learned to turn the violence that she heard 
into something like a comfort, into pieces of the truth 
(“if he is hitting her, at least he isn’t hitting you”) – 
for if “daddy’s only doing this because he really loves you” 
lands with enough conviction, it becomes another muscle – 
it gets impossible to undo.

when the voices stopped she had no means to exorcise her demons 
no lexicon to turn them into adult thoughts and feelings 
so she took the blame and used the pain to bring the numbness back 
the cutting was a radiance illuminating cracks 
in the patterns she knew off by heart but never could make sense of – 
for her own protection, she was busy building 
criss-crossing fences.

God knows what is inside 
the mind of such a diffident child 
the layers of all possible lives 
are the loneliest disguise

the summer she was 14 she was held down by a friend 
she knew it wasn’t normal, they decided to pretend 
he that she was up for it, she that this was home 
so she faked that she was passed out, and the next day on her phone 
the knives were at her profile: “can you believe this slut?” 
she felt the words tear into her, a thousand little cuts 
at the corners of a mouth that never healed 
but was always shut.

when the tiredness finally barreled like a train into her brain 
obliterating everything except the sense of shame 
she didn’t take a test and she didn’t see a doctor 
when she looked into the mirror – was it her? was it not her? 
reflecting what had shattered, the truth no longer mattered. 
when they found her in a corner, looking like a doll 
without a heartbeat, barely there, unidentifiable 
the truth no longer mattered.

existence is a question folding in upon itself 
a nautilus of silence too profound to open up: 
the final time I saw her she was lying on a table 
where the lines upon her torso, like a moral to a fable 
were simple and instructive, a tale within the hurt: 
“I had something to say, if only you had listened… 
if only you had heard.”

God knows what is inside 
the mind of such a diffident child 
the layers of all possible lives 
are the loneliest disguise

9.    115th Street 

(Nagel / 1/2pint)

I pledge allegiance to my people, we fight ‘til we’re equal 
if all lives matter, we must take a stand 
or live on your knees - protect the black man 
protect the black man

dreaming, joyful, music in each stride 
he climbs the porch and clears his throat with pride 
imagines how the carefree twins will greet their brother 
but this is the wrong street for his color

a boy falling down 
on the glass 
on the shattered glass 
a man stands his ground 
bears his arm: he knows his rights when he sees black

three doors later (call it suburban benevolence) 
a neighbor finally makes the call for an ambulance 
doctors scraping fragments from a boy’s brain 
tears roll silently, the memory plays over again

falling down 
on the glass 
on the shattered glass 
a man stands his ground 
bears his arm: he knows his rights when he sees black

we hold these lies as evidence of the lives 
that die ‘cause you refuse to recognize 
no more compromise, you dehumanize the civilized 
now you want to criminalize? 
the woke is wise, still we rise 
I’m not surprised – everything is televised 
you disguise your genocide as brutal homicide 
it’s the sign of the times

dreaming (of a whole new world, dreaming of a whole new world)
joyful (free to be me – I’m free to be me) 
music (is the key to life – music is the key to life) 
(no stress, no strife) “he is our miracle”

a boy falling down (dreaming of a whole new world)
on the glass (that embraces you and me) 
on the shattered glass 
a man (he needs to feel joyful) 
stands his ground (he needs to be free) 
bears his arm: he knows his rights when he sees black

a boy falling down (music is the key to life)
on the glass (the soundtrack to escape through space and time) 
on the shattered glass 
a man (no stress, no strife) 
stands his ground (no stress, no strife) 
confident that precedent has got his back

10.    Cassandra 

(Nagel)

the more that she sees 
the less she is seen to be 
the more that she speaks 
the less that she is believed

burn it down 
burn it down 
burn it down 
burn it down

here is your gift of clarity

Cassandra

choice is a cloud 
shimmering in my mouth 
an evanescence 
tasted and lost again

burn it down 
burn it down 
burn it down 
burn it down

here is your gift of clarity

Cassandra – Cassandra – Cassandra

it takes more 
than a Trojan horse 
to still our voice 
to still our voice 
to still our voice

11.    Small Syllables 

(Nagel)

it’s trivial 
in the realm of life’s hard work 
but each small syllable in turn strives to alleviate
the burden of thought, of meaning 
- the question of what melancholia follows on from bliss 
and what bliss abandons melancholia 
blind behind its carceral shroud 
so when the thoughts themselves 
burn too brightly to grasp, as sharp as shards –

let the sound and cadence calm 
the ever-turning wheel 
hold your wounded hands against 
my heart and feel

though trivial 
here’s a dilatory embrace 
to ease the pain, the pain, the hungry audience of doubt 
the burden of thought, of being 
the question of what melancholia remembers of bliss 
when the thoughts themselves 
burn too bright, burn as sharp as shards 
hold your heart and feel
how words can thrum, how they ache with blood and song

let the sound and cadence calm 
the ever-turning wheel 
hold your wounded hands against 
my heart and feel

when the thoughts themselves
hold you too tight, beholden you to love lost 
sing the doubt and feel 
how words can soothe, how they ache with blood and truth

let the sound and cadence calm 
the ever-turning wheel 
hold your wounded hands against 
my heart and feel

 
12.    Listen 

(Nagel)

sun and shadow make a double
I’m the shadow, you’re the sun - it’s a conversation 
dance back when we stumble 
skip a beat, make our peace, find a double in the one

sun’s a hand on a wet dress 
a warm chill shiver taking wing upon my spine 
what do you feel when you undress? 
who decides when we’re out of time?

listen 
we’re falling into clouds of gold 
drowning 
deep in sky’s the limit hope

water dapples in the sunlight 
like a herd of Appaloosa running on the lake 
time: a knot getting untied 
ripple loose – here’s a different truth, another shape

sun and shadow make a double 
beyond two, sway becomes a rhapsody in new 
I close my eyes to the bright blue 
in the strobe behind my eyes, it’s a solo show, all I see is you

listen 
we’re falling into clouds of gold 
drowning 
deep in sky’s the limit hope

listen 
we’re falling through the sun into the gold 
drowning 
wherever there is music there is hope

listen 
we’re falling through it all to the unknown 
drowning 
wherever there is music there is hope