ArchiveMarch 2014

The Box


Rope handles fastened to each side – we will lift this box – a tug-of-war inside. Down the hill, we take our time, keeping hold of this box: rope handles fastened to each side. Your knuckles turn white, we sigh; you tiptoe over the rocks. A tug-of-war inside. The box splinters our thighs. I suggest we stop. Rope handles fastened to each side. Hands callused, rope-rubbed till dry. We...

(Pop, Kick, Replay)


Singers swallow syllables like prescribed pills; tapping the repeat button, I force her to regurgitate until overdose. I can imagine her, gown whipping in the wind, stumbling in the sand with heels in hand. The waves tumbling towards her gives the song a useless effect; maybe the song is meant to take place in a coffee shop. She’ll watch her boyfriend exchange a tall order of coffee for a...