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here’s a file of something new that i’ve been working on with my lone vacation day. [the rest of my break is dedicated to traveling and good family time/food ;)] just wanted to share my existential delights along with my frailties/angst, which is a good description of the song: falling apart and finding redemption. These often go together.

lyrics, Angel Ship (Luci Navibus)
When there is dark that can’t be reached
we break into
a myriad of snowflakes
who are searching for a fleet
to take us home
a fleet to take us home

riding and navigating winds
we fall, one by one
scattered all around, freely feeling each other’s heat
and the arriving angel fleet
melts us away on our journey home

You save me
You save me
luci, angeli, luci navibus

riding we fall onto the ground
absorbing sound
we notice we are snowflakes and we whimper as we are found
and the angel’s abound
in their fleet to take us home

You save me
You save me
luci, angeli, luci navibus

I can’t keep falling down when
I am laying on the ground
you’re holding me
oh angeli
a fluttering, I non vidi

You save me
You save me
luci, angeli, luci navibus


these are both recorded on my Roland VS-890 with my heather harp (22 string) as accompaniment. any “noises” that you hear are most likely me breathing or a small movement of the mic stand as I was simply recording it in our guest bedroom [i don’t know how to use all the other equipment]. or i swear i can hear the freaking neighbors using their “leaf blower” in the background. *grumble* sorry, but whatever that is all about….i find it to be embarrassing that many able persons don’t rake….or that we even “rake” leaves…they do fine just withering in our lawns and fertilizing the soil…another post, another post

and here’s the other one that i wrote about a widow waiting for her veteran husband to return to shore everyday. [inspired by visiting Dravo WWII LST shipbuilding site on Neville Island in PGH]…i walked all along this industrial island, breathing in whatever toxins are present (*cough, cough*), while feeling such a connection to some time/space that was not my own. I’ve heard this island has a way of creating this alienation in many persons. It has an incredible shipbuilding history, and most recently, there was a shipwreck (the Becky Thatcher…one of the lovely steamwheels) that didn’t get enough attention in Pittsburgh; hoping to visit the museum with its few recovered remains….this is distant to the drama in my song of the ships without names…
so, take a listen to my 1950s-esque tune.
at the river