SCREAMING KETTLE MAKES GENTLE TEA (D G D F# B E, capo 4)
Sun pass through sky. Firm grip, light tracks.
She reaches out. And I can’t wait to sit in her palm.
Sun pass through me. Screaming kettle makes gentle tea.
And it’s nine degrees. The springish sun makes me want to go camping.
PASSING THROUGH THE SKY (E A D G B E)
Passing through the sky, I know now what to do. Spinning from the trees, it’s clear.
Watch the brightest star, she reaches out to you. Sitting in her open palm.
Lifting through the clouds and you are wide awake. A firm grip carries you.
I feel a warmth inside of you, it reaches from my chest. I’m sitting in your open palm.
Passing through the sky, returning to ourselves. Letting the wind lead the way.
Passing through the sky, we know now what to do.
I CAN SEE YOU FROM FAR AWAY (D A D G B E)
Pretty sure I just saw something move. Something long, something surging.
Of course, I am on my own.
Literally, it’s just me in the sea. Actually, not really.
And I forgive everyone.
And hope that they forgive me as well. Before the sea takes me.
I hope that they forgive me.
Pretty sure I’ve been spared; I’m ok. Must have looked pretty funny from far away.
We must look pretty funny from far away. I forgive you; I can see you from far away.
LOOK FOR THE BRIGHTEST STAR (D A D G B E)
Drag yourself to shore. Wipe your eyes dry.
Clear your throat and sing.
Drag yourself home. No one knows you left.
Let the night be your guide.
Footsteps inside your head.
They echo down the footpath like a butterfly resting on your shoulder.
Drag yourself clear. Be ok being swept.
Look for the brightest star.
Drag yourself through the mud. Leave some skin on the rocks.
Watch yourself as a bird.
Burning under your chest. You see the sky go dark.
Drag yourself through emptiness and look for the brightest star.
Look for the brightest star.
Look for the brightest star.
Look for the brightest star.
Look for the brightest star.
CRACKLE (E A D G B E)
A sky so blue. A sun so bright. I have to shield my eyes. I slept all night. And woke up well. I stepped outside.
To a sky so blue. And a sun so bright. Golden on skin. Soft and steady wind. I breathe the morning in. And watch the fading moon.
Melting into a sky so blue. A flock of cockatoos.
Crashing into a sun so bright.
A story told. A moment lost. In front of us. Another one. Another blade of glowing grass.
Reaching up to a flock of cockatoos.
Crashing into a swimming pool.
And I love you.
What happens if we don’t? We’ll never know.
What happens if we fall? We can’t.
What happens if we don’t? We’ll never know.
And I love you. And I love you.
What happens if the dark swallows all of us? What happens when they call our names? What happens if the night comes back for us?
What happens if the sky is so blue? What happens if the sun is so bright? What happens if a flock of cockatoos reaches down and teaches us how to fly?
THICK ENOUGH (D A D G B E)
A darkness thick enough to swallow all of us. Harmless or just a bluff, won’t you miss us?
Arriving under the moon. Over the sand dunes. Climbing to a heavenly tune.
I can smell your breath but I don’t know where you are.
I can run all night but only get so far.
Good luck trying to stop. Trying to not.
Good luck. I’m being sincere.
Whether or not the dark finds its way to our hearts.
We can fly all night but still not know where we are.
The dark is thick enough to swallow of us.
(Yeah) The dark is thick enough to swallow of us.
If you ever get home how do you think you’ll know?
What do you think it will look like?
THE DARK IS THICK ENOUGH TO SWALLOW ALL OF US (D A D G B E)
Something is spilling from me. Every other night. No one is where they said they’d be.
So, where does that leave me? The dark is thick enough to swallow of us.
And no one will tell you what you can do. But if you can believe then it can come true.
Like waves in the sea rolling right through, they’re coming straight for you.
If I can believe then it can come true.
Something is waiting for us. Last seen on the pacific highway. It rolled and stuck on its back. And no one else will find it.
You feel like you’re out of time. But, really, it’s all we have. So, let’s treat it like we want it to treat us.
And no one will open the door for you. But when the time comes you’ll know what to do.
A great big backyard and a swimming pool, the ocean just in view.
If you can believe then it can come true.
If I can believe then it can come true.
Because no one is telling me what to do. I can’t pretend I have a clue.
When I see a light I know that I must. Because the dark is think enough to swallow all of us.
READ BRIGHT DEATH – PART ONE HERE
Bright Death - part two
I wake up in long, dewy
grass. My boardies slightly damp, hair on my arms standing on end. The sun is lifting
itself over the ocean and into the cloudless sky. There’s a gentle breeze. Its
warmth tells me it’s a westerly. It’s going to be one of those stinking hot
days, but the surf should be good. I remember another morning like this one a
few years back, running into Hands at the beach when I should have been
studying. He told me: You can’t waste days like these.
On the walk home, utes and wanky cars speed past. Commercial radio blares from windows. Bougie cafes buzz while real estate agents talk into AirPods. Feral kids push and shove each other at bus stops, their backpacks twice their size. I'm an alien plodding through the streets.
When I make it back home, it feels like I couldn’t have gone a step further. Trudging up the driveway, I notice for the first time the symmetry of the three windows lining the side of our little unit. Evenly spaced and perfectly aligned; one for the bedroom, one for the study, one for the kitchen. I get a warm and fuzzy feeling. Adrianne sits on the sill of the window closest to the door and licks her paw.
Rummaging in my pocket, I’m surprised to find my housekeys still there. I fumble for the lock, jiggle the key and step inside.
//
It’s dark and cool in here. With the blinds drawn, I’m safe from the world in my nest. Dark green plants line the walls. Books and records spill from the shelves and onto the floor. I’ve never been compelled to arrange them in any particular order. Adrianne jumps down from the window and stretches on the floor. She dodges my attempt at a pat, running down the hall and under the bed. She won’t be back out until the sun goes down.
There’s a dirty bowl and coffee cup in the sink. Priscilla’s breakfast before she rushed off for work this morning. She was fast asleep when I kissed her goodbye in the dark and whispered that I was going for a swim. It feels like a long time ago.
I take a cold shower and put on a pair of clean boxers. The Sunbeam Mini Barista is already on. I don’t question why. I cut an orange into quarters and make two pieces of vegemite toast, washing it down with a cold coffee. Outside, the garbage truck rumbles down the street. It must be Monday. Flipping half-heartedly through The Surfer’s Journal, I remember my bike. I hadn’t had time to make sense of the morning’s events, let alone contemplate the whereabouts of my beloved Norco Indie 2. I stumble outside to check the shed we share with our neighbour. Maybe it was just a weird, visceral dream and my bike will be sitting right where it always is. Shielding my eyes, I step outside and dart across the scorching concrete.
The shed feels damp. Small and cramped. Two washing machines, a Big Daddy Double Deluxe swag and a bag of deflated footballs suffocate the cramped den. In the corner stands Priscilla’s shiny new cruiser. I spent most of my savings on it for her birthday last year. It was better than mine and I knew she would only ride it every now and then, but I wanted her to have it. It’s been worth it for those sunny Saturday morning rides to the coffee shop together. Mine isn’t there though. Despite the poky space, the spot where my pushy should be is a cavernous gorge.
//
Back inside, I put on a shirt, sunscreen and a wide-brimmed hat. I check Adrianne is still under the bed, telling her I’ll be back soon. I slip on my thongs and head out the door.
The sun stands a little higher now. It’s proud and regal. I can feel it looking straight through me. The streets are quiet with the morning sadsack rush over. They’ll be sitting in offices, quietly filling their keep cups with tears.
Trying to retrace my ride this morning, I walk past old ladies with shopping trolleys. Teenagers whopping school are loitering outside the IGA. Young women push empty prams along pedestrian crossings. On telegraph poles I notice the same poster on nearly every street. It catches my eye after the third or fourth one I pass. It’s a notice for a missing person. Her name is Maggie and she’s been gone for nearly a week. From the photo on the poster, she looks to be about my age. I feel a pang in my chest looking into her eyes. Then I realise: it’s the girl from my dream last night. Exact same hairdo and everything. Just as pretty.
I’m lost in my thoughts when I hear a shout across the street: Joey!
Not many people call me Joey. An eclectic mix of friends, family and acquaintances who feel like they either do or don’t know me well enough to not use my full name.
I turn around to see Charlie. Like always, he wears a huge grin on his freckled face. It almost reaches his ears. He’s just been to the bakery for a salad sandwich. Waving a tightly-packed white package from the window of his car, he calls me over.
As I cross the road, he’s unwrapping the sandwich, insisting I take half. I acquiesce; partly because I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and partly because I’m suddenly ravenous. Didn’t I just eat breakfast?
I hop in the passenger seat of his white Nissan X-Trail. We sit in silence as we devour our halves. He gets as much joy gifting me the sandwich as I do in eating it. He’s like that in the surf too, directing traffic as the sets roll in: Here’s one Joey!
When we finish eating, Charlie says the waves are firing. I tell him I need to go find my pushy, but we’re already driving to my place to get my board. The bike will have to wait.
