Get all 20 Matthew S. Rosin releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Ouroboric Snack, Not Forever: Brain Fog Intonations III, Circles and Sequelae: Brain Fog Intonations II, No Hesitation, May Our Voices Be, Brain Fog Intonations, With the Birds, Aeonian Selections, 1996, and 12 more.
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Word Cage
03:16
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You thought you knew it all, so you clung to the name.
You thought you knew it all, so you clung to the name.
You thought you knew it all, so you clung to the name.
Now you’re trapped in your word cage.
Are you listening for the sounds that don’t fit your scheme?
Are you listening for the pleas that undercut your dream?
You thought you knew it all, so you clung to the name.
Now you’re locked away in your word cage.
When a syllable varies, do you cut it away?
Do you take hold of the tongue and beat it into place?
You thought you knew it all, so you clung to the name.
Now your children are dying in your word cage.
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2. |
Balloon
02:26
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Your vast imagined edifice is but air: a balloon, pricked. You have always been bleeding. Could you know your wound? Smile kindly upon it? Begin again?
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3. |
Sparrow In Memory
02:58
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Your sparrow in memory dives to snap up a gleaming fly. Can you not face it? Your sparrow is dead: undone in dirt by crawly things, sipped up by a twisted root. You do not smell the rot in your heart: you never had shovels for hands.
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4. |
The Passenger
03:16
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Hatred is a dead body handcuffed to my wrist. I drag it behind me, uphill and down.
The face that smears over rocks and concrete: the same as the one I see in the mirror. The fingers that cut grooves into the soil bear my fingerprints, leave their traces.
The wake I trail behind me slowly ceases to be red. The passenger sheds his skin. I grow still more hollow. Blank features pass away, as my face grows ever harder. My back curves from the weight. The spine is bleached by sun.
By the time the bones remaining detach and fall away, there will be nothing left; nothing left to save; but an empty shell dragging empty handcuffs behind.
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Matthew S. Rosin Mountain View, California
Restless. Searching. Never the same twice.
Matthew S. Rosin (he/him/his) composes atmospheric music
that blends ambient, rock, and folk textures.
He is also an essayist, short-story author,
and stay-at-home dad.
... more
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