the dock

 

my dear
when we first fell in love

i thought i might make a worthy cornerstone.
set first in your foundation,
a solid base upon which could be ensured
a straight and robust construction.

to that end, i lodged myself in a firm place.
digging deep into the earth and
calcifying in my resolve to ever support you.
indeed i boasted that anything built upon
such rock would surely endure and flourish.

but how foolish was this conception?
in my haste, i had overlooked the sturdy vessel
that you had already been constructing for years.
built to withstand the open seas –
to journey to lands unknown and far away.

and so it was one day,
realizing the error of my ways
i rushed to the waterfront
just as you cast your sails into the wind.
you waved a sad and solemn goodbye.

on these shores i have since built a dock.
a structure which, unlike a cornerstone
set in its position, may rise and fall with the tides.
and which, rather than serving as a foundation
may serve simply as a refuge
from long, weary days at sea.

thus do i remain
ready should the need ever arise
to grant you safe harbor.

Make Believe

This song came to me after a tough break-up.  I was pretty disenchanted with the whole thing because after a period of time I had come to realize certain new things about the relationship, which called into question what it was all about.  The lyrics convey a feeling of ebb and flow, and a bit of lack of control or rationality.  I know what I believe and what I should believe, and they don’t quite mesh.

Lyrics after the jump.

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you couldn’t look more beautiful

 

we are tired
exhausted –
the day has come
and with its passing has stripped us bare.

we make no pretense.
no longer stand our walls – we are without will to raise them

and in this moment,
my eyes ask me if they have not been fooled.

in this moment
i am afforded a glimpse
of you
at your most you.

and i am reminded how i love you.
for you couldn’t look more beautiful than you do.

Il Fantasma

Translated from Italian, “Il Fantasma” means “The Ghost”.  This tune was written as a background track for a short film I produced in an intensive Italian course.  The class was taught in Sever Hall at Harvard, and the doors had a strange habit of opening without warning or apparent reason.  We developed the concept that a ghost was wandering the halls of Sever – causing these disturbances – and decided to film one student’s unlucky encounter with “Il Fantasma”.

Lyrics (and the clip) after the jump.

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These streets

 

do you remember that time?
that first time we lost ourselves in the streets of boston?
it was a be-witching hour, as frosted (snow) flakes careened toward our unprotected faces, carried on a frigid wind.
we bought some real frosted flakes at cvs, the only place with warm lights and an unlatched door.

that’s not true.

but i wanted to buy some frosted flakes; and in retrospect it would’ve been so appropriate.

 

do you remember that time?
when i met you at the bus station?
you were wearing yellow.  i brought you flowers.
you had baggage.  i wheeled it behind us as we walked.

 

do you remember that time?
our chance meeting on beacon?
you looked so lovely that night.
(and i hadn’t kissed you in years.)
we stayed out past our bedtimes.

wandering
and i drove you home.

 

i know these streets, now.
they have at once become my daily routine.

but they carry such memories, too.

Hey Postman

In college, I had the privilege of singing jazz a cappella with some incredibly fun and talented dudes in the Harvard Din & Tonics.  My freshman summer, we went on a ridiculously awesome (and insanely storied) 90-day world tour through 26 countries – starting in London and working our way east across Europe, Asia, and Australia before ending in LA.

At the time, I was still with my girlfriend from high school, but things had been getting steadily tougher as we were doing long distance (Ohio to Massachusetts), and I was spending my entire summer on tour.  When I got back, I ended up writing this song, remembering all the times I thought about her on the trip.

Lyrics after the jump.

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More than simply, things.

 

her gossamer presence

settling alight grained surface and porous fabric.
invisible but not forgotten.  felt though not perceived.
its stewardship has come to me.

and so.

with each rise and fall of my figure i endeavor to stay.  my.  breath.
with each proximate pass of the hand i hesitate ever so,   slightly.

mindful to avoid disturbing such peace, so as to grant this ethereal substance occasion to seep in and indelibly stain.

invisible but not forgotten.  felt though not perceived.