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creature comforts

by a small bird

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1.
teeth 03:20
This sucks, I’ll admit it, everyone has a limit— take a walk, I’ll wait right here. Your dramatic suspension has got my attention, You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, And, you know, we’ve all got teeth, it’s not so strange, I’ve never seen you so red-faced—what I meant to say, is I wish I could be all the typical things you want me to be But my wishes were spent, every dollar and cent, in late 1453. I’ve not been to hell, or bed with Christabel, Somebody’s been giving me a bad name. If I said no hypnosis, would my diagnosis Still gross you out all the same? And I still need my teeth, they’re here to stay, If I could have it any other way, I wish I could be all the typical things you want me to be. And some things can change, but removing a cape Cannot make a gray heart beat. And I wish I could be all the typical things you want me to be, And you would accept if you’d been a witness to half the snake-oil remedies, That I can never be all the typical things you want me to be, Though I’ve had a sec to process my undeath so I can leave you be, And I know you meant no great disrespect, I’ve been through this before— At least you didn’t bring a pitchfork— And if you smile at me, I’ll smile back, closed mouth, no teeth.
2.
What if we kissed? Would that be so bad? I think I just coughed part of my heart into your hands. Always embarrassed by my feelings, But I could be embarrassed now. I’m too overwhelmed To even look at your face, So I focus on the bug scaling your windowpane, Wandering aimlessly around the glass trying to get back out. The best-laid plans of mice and men Don’t work out, so I’m told, But I’m feeling anomalous today. You and me, girl, hand in hand, With gloves on, if it’s cold, And if we’re lucky then it never goes away. So back to that kiss: I was thinking now; Only so many chances while we’re still both in town, And I’ve been chewing peppermint gum, Since breakfast, you know, just in case. I’m losing my nerve, So maybe it’s best If I run into the woods and never come out again. I’m always embarrassed by my feelings, I just thought they might all be on break? Don’t know what I was thinking. The best-laid plans of mice and men Don’t work out, so I’m told, But I think we should take the chance today, Cause you make every inch of me Feel like it’s made of silver— If I’m lucky that will never go away. I always want to feel this way, Do you think we could get it to stay If we kissed?
3.
Two figures dance across the street as white as ghosts Under the shade of trees torn down years ago, Wandering up the avenue, cars Careening around the turn. What they’re looking for is long since gone, A lesson hard to learn For albino deer of Bergen on a county highway curb. It was never their intention to move out to the burbs. They know where they’re going, some emerald field in south Jersey, But they often change directions And second-guess the journey. This body hit this windshield like a meteor from space. A stag the brown of summer fell, a pale one took its place, Who all the drivers, terrified, will stop and let pass by: The grandly antlered poltergeist just on the search for somewhere dry. The albino deer of Bergen Cross the street beside the lake. They didn’t bring their passes, but they pass between the gates. The fawns all hit the beach and play some tag along the shore, The parents take a walk and wonder what the fence is for. Intertwined with power lines, The branches seem amiss. Heading for the edge of town, But the edge does not exist For an albino deer of Bergen Reclining on my lawn Watching the trees and wondering when she should move on. Her coat as white as a piece of the moon that fell to earth, Those crimson eyes betray a kind of un-resenting hurt. The albino deer of Bergen disappears between the trees, A final verdant vestige of the place this used to be. One oddly human stare behind a thin ruminant face, And then, vanished, Gone without a trace.
4.
ina garten 03:07
I cut my thumb a couple times today. The name of this culinary game is grace, and Grace is not my middle name. I’m sweating through my t-shirts and my band-aids, A werewolf in a swimsuit with her fur up in a braid— I’m not the same, but I’m not ashamed, I just feel a little down on myself. Staring deep into the mirror again, Why do I always look like I need help? Now, every worm just wants to be the best worm, And every germ just wants a strong successor, But I just want to see you again, Out in our garden, while I laugh along and work the frying pan Like Ina Garten. Absolutely everybody’s baking bread, and I’ve been thinking quite a lot about my second real attempt: Dry as baking powder and beset with dents, And I’m not in a place to take anybody’s two cents. It’s not the same, and I’m not ashamed, I just thought I would be proud of myself. I left it in too long while working out a stain On a sweater that don’t even fit me well. Now, every worm just wants to be the best worm, And every termite wants to eat your dresser, But I just want to see you again, be given the chance to work the counter, make you laugh, Though I’m nowhere near as advanced as Ina Garten. I used to be the connoisseur of little things, But this snout kept jutting out and my hands got way too big. Now I can’t even sew a button into place, The line between the beast and me is blurring day by day. I’m not the same, and it’s just a shame To be hangin’ on the back porch by myself. I don’t even know if I’m invited in. The uncertainty is weighing on my health. Now, every worm just wants to be the best worm, And every bird just wants rid of its stressors— Look, I just want to see you again, if you can stand it, Though I laugh like a hyena and am in no shape to stand in For Ina Garten.
5.
first flight 01:06
6.
lighten up! 04:08
Moments of relief are hard to find; This face looks almost real this time. Maybe today there’ll be no gasps, Or frightened screams, or heart attacks. But every footstep on cement Loosens the bolts and frays the threads That keep me together, that keep me together, that keep my head. Don’t know what makes them so ill at ease: The patchwork skin or mismatched teeth. Uncanny always close at hand; I made somebody cry again. I’d be sent to Roswell for inspection If any agent dared to risk infection. My survival is predicated on fear. I try to lighten up, It seems one billion volts wasn’t near enough. Still, I should lighten up, And I’m trying, I’m trying. Town made up of apprehensive grins Waiting for me to finally give in, Let myself crumbled down to dust, And be shipped back to wherever I came from. And many years after my death, No remnants of my efforts left, Just some vague anecdotes about The ghoul who used to haunt the town. And my spirit will spill right down the driveway, Run with plastic drugstore bags along the highway Like a pile of trash for a party that no one had. I’m already breaking up, But I don’t think it matters if I’ve had enough. Only one way to it and it’s to get tough, And I’m trying, I’m trying. Call me a malcontent— I’ve gotten worse, and I’ll get it again. Self-Sufficiency may be my only defense, And I’m trying. I’m trying. I’m trying.
7.
I would join the circus If weren’t for most things about the circus. Something about the idea, I guess: Different city every night And the same face to your right In the same vermillion dress. I would move to Greenland If I didn’t have to "move" to move to Greenland. Something about the idea, I guess: There’s lots of space to be yourself In a cold and barren hell If you can be yourself in 3 degrees or less. Now, I’d have made the reservation If the place had let me make the reservation, But there was something about my ID, I guess. Anyway, they give me quite a look, So if you could go and get us booked A table for tonight, that would be best. I would join the circus if it wasn’t one of those That exploited people’s conditions and identities. Something about the idea, I guess, long as the attraction’s something cool: Magic tricks or spinning hoops, And not having extra facial holes, Or being a caged up animal, Or maybe contortion, if it hurts to do contortion— And no stints on the trapeze, The quickest way to break your knees— Don’t wanna juggle like a wannabe, Or, far worse, manifest the comedy of The combination of a well-groomed beard And the same vermillion—
8.
A ramp-less highway through a wild wood— Your smile, which never looked so good, Cuts through the dark; the car is warm, thick and boiling like a growing storm. You put your failures to the side, Kitschy ornaments and kitchen knives, You don’t need anything tonight That Snakebite Lake does not provide. Aphrodite’s long-forgotten daughter Dives headfirst into the water, And though you watched the dive so close, The surface seemed to be all solid stone. They shed the cracking skins they wore And leave their old suits on the shore, And though it’s winter, the water’s warm, A kiln in which a god is formed. All rise up on mountain legs, Vested in green and violet threads, Garlands of amarylls on every head, A round of sudden, sodden, steely breaths. Phanes’s children, sons, and daughters Swim like dancers in the water, And you don’t even take off your shoes, Just stand there willing laces to come loose. Come loose! Come loose! (The color of a morning rose,) Come loose! (lavender and olive oil,) Bm Am6 Gmaj7 F6 Come loose! (As befits the bath of Virgo,) Come loose! (warrior in woman’s mold.) The grey-eyed goddess’ forgotten daughter Watches the figures in the water, Clad in the most absolute arboreal ardor, Brighter still than the yester-evening’s stars were.
9.
Coming home has never felt the same Ever since we came to the conclusion to spring clean. After quite a number of years and tearful goodbyes To stuff we don’t use, we’ve darkened the skies With baggy pants and shirts from failed progressive campaigns. It was easy to cope till we hung up all our hangups, Specters in the bathtub, banshees on the banisters, All the old skeletons coming out of the closets, Sunning out on the front lawn. Party fatigue is pursuing me Doggedly with a knife through the company break room, And I can’t think of nothing and no one, only of home and all of the clothes I somehow still own since winter/fall of 2010. Who knew that hoodies and graphic tees Could say do many things and that all the things they’d say would be so mean? The past is lumbering after me In size 38 jeans; If I can just make it to the donation drop I’m free. It’s easy to cope till you hang up all your hangups, Specters in the bathtub, banshees on the banisters, All the old skeletons coming out of the closets, Sunning out on the front lawn, faded Ed Hardy shirts on, And I can’t hope to air out all my laundry If it’s piled on me, Just let me complain about it. I can’t cope surrounded by the ghosts Of all my fashion failures
, miserable wonders, Charon’s ship has sunk, and I am slipping under.
10.
The tardigrade can live for years in space in suspended animation. Think of all the microscopic paperwork piling up. That’s someone who knows how to take days off. It’s always wild to watch someone drive with no hesitation, 70 miles with no thoughts of imminent death. Maybe I’m some related species in the genus, like Homo anxius. Soft is the turn of the night, beneath it I’m rushing To pick up the breakaway glass of my heart from my sudden brush against nothing. Take a breath, The still air is stepped in scents, Lavender, peppermint, It feels like a long time since. Can barely sit, Much less stand. Maybe it’s the end, Or just a change in plans. Curse the pace for not being near enough, And raise my head to face with her majesty, the queen of cups. The bears and the bats are all going back to hibernation. Think of all the bear and bat paperwork piling up. I miss the pain you can just sleep off. But some part of the quiet alights on a new interpretation Of something somebody once said that was otherwise bunk
. I guess everything’s deep if you think long enough I’m on the floor where I’ll stay for a day or a so, Getting my hand to remember that it can let go Even smaller gods, Pebbles and playing cards, Their cousins up in the stars Were never my cup. But now she Is staring back at me, Illustrated hand offering An extended stay at sea. Collapse on the shore at the end of a trail of blood To rest for a while on the isle of the queen of cups.
11.
creature 03:26
I heard about twelve different definitions for a species by my senior year, Eight years after the sun’s ninth little boy demoted, though the people loved him dear. It’s simple til a liger and a lion have a little kid, Provided no one thinks to just avoid debate by quietly killing it. There’s a lot of not-inaccurate terms for what I am that people have on hand, But not a lot of overlap between the list and any terms that I can stand. The next-door neighbors had this creeping plant that sprouted purple flowers All around their house, and when they tore it down I saved one in my desk, til it turned to dust Inside the drawer. I am just a creature In need of comfort, And I don’t know anything else for sure. If you cannot reach her, Just leave her unhurt, And don’t reach ’til you know what you’re reaching for. I heard about twelve different definitions for a species before my senior year, Eight years after the sun’s ninth little boy demoted, though the people loved him dear. The length of time that people can ignore a liger’s kid And the fact that words don’t change the way the Roman reaper’s planet spins Is so, so long. Their need for comfort is so, so strong. And really I am just a creature In need of comfort, I don’t know anything else for sure. Call me a monster, Just grant me comfort, And not the comforts I’ve been signed up for, Cause comforts can curses too, for sure.
12.

about

This second album is about the place I was heading to in the first. My reviews are mixed. In the year I took writing and making this album I have felt worse than I ever have before, and have felt better than I have in a very long time. I think some of each ended up in here.

Thank you to my family, friends, influences, fans, instructors, nemeses, collaborators, and everyone else willing to listen to me pretend to have a studio for an additional 36 minutes.

Special thanks as always to Emma McGorray. I don't know what would be on this Bandcamp page if she wasn't involved, but it wouldn't be as good, that's for sure.

The creature comforts counsel council:
Austin Cody
Ben Weinman
Emma McGorray
George Costanzo
Jake Zeisel
Katherine Connolly
Nick Navari
Nate Hollander
Wolfy

credits

released July 2, 2021

lyrics by a small bird
music by a small bird (all tracks) and Johann Sebastian Bach (track 1)
performed by a small bird
mixed by a small bird
mastered by Jake Zeisel
cover art by Pavii. Find more of Pavii's wonderful work at pavinee-illustration.carbonmade.com
recorded in a small bird’s apartment, on land which was once home to the Kiikaapoa and Potawatomi people, among others.

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a small bird Chicago, Illinois

a small bird is the solo project of a queer trans artist based in Chicagoland.

Follow her on IG: @asmallbirdmusic
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@smallbirdmusic
or perhaps even Tiktok:
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