nicolas j amara

perpetualdeformity:

Hello all,

The Jaws of Life/Deceiver split is now available in the online store. Everything else is on sale, as well. Have a look and pick something up. Help me put out more tapes/book some shows.

available for stream/dl @ 

http://perpetual-deformity.bandcamp.com/album/jaws-of-life-deceiver

-N

New tape out on my label with Matt of Water Torture’s project Deceiver! Check it out!!

slow black fish

in the murk water

floater float i’m

a pool dead fish soul

stewy stag

-nant lover love

I’ve dried up

I’m barren

I’ve been fucked dead

by my own hands

Keep sand sifting on

strainer kid stringing

pieces of seaweed together

Floater blood dog swimmer

Eyeless wholeless soulless

creature

I’ll drown till I bloat and I

float—I float

Trying connections and

stripping ropes to the root

wandering out too far to swim

Too deep to feel

Black murk water sinner

Pool dreamer licking black

rock bottom

forever

perpetualdeformity:

The Jaws/Deceiver tapes are in. The only thing left to do is print inserts. Thanks to Matt for being patient with me. They should be available at the Jaws show this Saturday at Candy’s Magic Pub in Shirley, NY. Will hopefully be up in the PD store soon, as well. Patience, friends.

Thanks for following.

-N

Come out on Saturday and let’s get weird

light flits distant on the bay

behind, streetlight glow

the heart of cardboard pizza triangle

still in smoky vehicle

night stalks dark, glow and waiver

quiet, gone

                       and distant

                                                                                                          away

                                                Frieda is gaining weight, purring all the way

                                                making a soft kneaded bed

                                                to deep sleep in

                                                She is calm and calculating

                                                unwinding slow days,

                                                her days

                                                 I scraped my hand today

                                                 building fences

                                                 around the yard

                                                 and gave  thought

                                                 to the building

                                                 of fences

                                                   What difference

                                                   does a fence make

                                                   when it can

                                                   and will

                                                   be dug under

                                                   like the loose layers

                                                  of conscience

                                                  I forgot to pat down

                                                   after digging

stand alone                  in a field, grass knotted feet

sit alone                       the driver’s smoky seat

read alone                    the couch has eaten me

dine alone                    microwave reading me

                                                                                    I’ve made a habit of

                                                                                staying awake at night

                                                                          like something will kick out

                                                                                            the floorboards

                                                                          of my living room, splaying

                                                                                  wood and foundation
                                                                                into the frozen kitchen

                                                                                   Breaths. There is no

                                                                                   one under the coffee

                                                                                   table

                                                                                   only refrigerator hum

                                                                                   ice machine

                                                                                  maintaining the freeze

                                                                           I wander my room, re

                                                                          organize my books

                                                                          look out at the empty street

                                                                               in a dream I bend down

                                                                               like Raskolnikov and

                                                                               kiss the grit

                                                                       can’t remember the reasons

                                                                        or the applications, or why

                                                                         I would wish for

                                                                         That urgency

                                                                          which flits by with

                                                                           the cat sentiment

                                                                            elusive, it is

                                                                             and gone

not here, nowhere

misplaced importance of place

stop scraping pen pizza box

my breath is breath

plastic coffee piss, the water

lonely blinker, empty room

sighing

                      sand

                                                                                     gone

April 6th at Candy’s Pub in Shirley, NY. 7 PM. I’m on first—get there early!

will hopefully have some xeroxed poetry for your reading pleasure

will definitely have cassette tapes for your listening displeasure

sounds: perpetual-deformity.bandcamp.com

-nick

Just kidding about the show! I am no longer on it. Expect something in April. - nick