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released January 6, 2016

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Gakudan Hige Danshaku Osaka, Japan

Hazukashi Studios Kyoto Japan
Loopline Records Osaka, Japan

Representing:
Out of Dust
Urban Trio
Global Quintet
Gakudan Hige DanShaku

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Track Name: Carapace
The Sound and the Fury



They came before language, a year after me, they came

back: seventeen-year cicadas. For weeks

they stared, red-eyed and vibrating, folded

under new leaves but driven in that heat



to mate and smash against glass.

They crawled up from under the ground,

mounted the trees, as if they remembered, leaving

their delicate shells to the gnarled bark.



When they’d let go, the rattling whir grinding higher

toward its impossible pitch, I’d come out of sleep as well, sweaty

and hard from dreamfucking a girl I was too scared to kiss.

I suffered valiantly, unrequited and polite

as the genteel poor, lonelier than a grown virgin. At night

I lay awake reading. Small voices cut the day like a saw.

Peter Ramos (Television Snow Blaize/Vox Books Used w/permission)
Track Name: Descends the Stairs
King Size



Plump and wide, gigantic
sheet-cake with vanilla frosting!

Big enough for dad
and mom, even the kids.

We’d come between them. We’d sleep
all of us dreaming, drifting

apart. One night my brother and I
opened our eyes and split. At dawn

our parents awoke, suddenly
strangers.

Peter Ramos (Television Snow Blaize/Vox Books Used w/ permission)
Track Name: ACTG
Wisdom Teeth



Something had to give that summer
and did—as you pissed away paychecks and woke
sweating each day. Broiling Baltimore! Broken glass
on the pavement and knee-high weeds. By noon
no one, not even the homeless, got caught
on those sidewalks but you, already on your way
to the Mount Royal Tavern. Then home again
to sleep, your two-room single strewn
with greasy wrappers and tall-boys, still
a hundred degrees by evening.

You painted an old professor’s porch
for rent. In June, you’d seen your mother
with suitcase descending for good the stairs
of your childhood home, your father at the table’s head,
mute, dazed and undone. Simmering and grim
on a four-month bender—your girlfriend
away—you ranted till they disconnected
the phone and withheld your TA.

In August you went under, toward something
like sleep, nitrous oxide’s “twilight,” the surgeon’s whisper
booming your ear, rubber fingers and hard instruments
pressed out your drool, and then a crunching sound, cranial-deep,
like a phonebook ripping apart. They stuffed you
with cotton, and there, when you came to, fresh
from New York was a girl you’d almost marry
caressing your cheek, the blinded room, her parents’,
air-conditioned for sleep, as your mind finally dulled
under Percocet’s liquid heaven. Why go there now, why hold on
to those bloody molars, your ingrown and bone-aching
twenty-something teeth?
Peter Ramos from Television Snow Blaize/Vox Books (used w/ permission)