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by sea oleena

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Southbound 06:24
Invisible physicians, lawyers, and magicians. An instant of existence at the table in the kitchen. A flood-lit, floating highway, Headlights slicing up a pathway into the driveway. Drop me a line when you finally arrive on the runway. Southbound train-track traveler Add another film roll, quick, into the camera. Grey lake paint-stained body of water To the left of the runway. (Drop me a line when you finally arrive on the runway.) I got lost in Egypt, Wandering around the figurines a hieroglyphics. Paintings on the ceilings, Colorful in contrast to the sandy statuettes. I read the book of the dead backwards And then I made my way to someone with a name-tag For directions to a staircase. I climbed a flight an realized the century had shifted, I was awe-struck, gaping at the walls I floated through the marble halls Like some dis-jointed memory thrown across the room. (From) back when I pumped gas, red shirt, black pants. Drinking in the bathroom, heading for a heart-attack. Never looking up from the sidewalk, High-tops pounding out a beat in the pavement (they went) Yes, I'm a little bit wasted. Just like a six-string, I sing only when I'm pressured Or when I'm alone with a rhythm and a reason. Heading for the season of the winter coat, Heartbeat heavy as a suicide note. Yes, I'm a little bit wasted; Nevermind, I'm fine, walking in a straight line, Trying out my voice for the first time. Grey lake, paint-stained body of water To the left of the runway. Drop me a line when you finally arrive on the runway.
Oh those glowing eyes Above the rocking chair A steady stare An undeniable sign Dust unsettled by the sigh The silent poltergeist Drumming out a morse code message On her ribcage bones She sits beside the telephone She hears a heartbeat in the dial-tone
It's been sixty days Since the black sky opened up the food-gates. Fell down hard on the sun-stained fair-grounds. Held back any recollection of the bloodshed somehow. And now This unending rain Stopping short on the surface of the watery graves Is another, even nicer, simpler sort of silence these days. Don't be so afraid of the insomnia plague. This is what he wrote in the ripped-up note: I've become something even less than a ghost. Even more of a though, I've become a mirage. I'm the shaky air encircling the flickering flame. I'm the white wall swallowing the window frame. Don't be so afraid of the insomnia plague.
Untitled 04:42
There's a shadow in the door-frame With a hunger for the highway The poison from the bee sting The mirrors on the ceiling The thunder and the lightning The hibernating heart sings out And I shake the hand of the seamstress Pinning up the clouds like patches A little bit blue around the edges Hanging all the quilts from the ceilings Another room, another day, another season Another feeling Another reason to call me a liar Standing in the park beside the fire Stepping over lines that I had drawn there There's a quiet conversation A discarded invitation A statue on the fountain A molehill on the mountain A river through the kitchen We're swimming in basement now And I met the ghost in the mirror Gave me quite a fright but I came nearer Told me all his secrets in a whisper And I had my palm read by the psychic weather reporter Said he was a wicked fortune-teller Gazing at the glowing teleprompter
Sister 03:32
People taking pictures underneath my balcony I'm hearing conversations loud It's like I'm sitting on the ground But I'm above the empty street With people walking under me I know It's been a long time, sister Take a walk in the crystal city
Milk 04:30
Thick-skinned chameleon Climbs the curtains hanging on the wall; The only living ghost to grace the hall. Meanwhile on the battlefield, Another soldier boldly bites his tongue; The only noble thing he's ever done. Step one: wake up, Now open your eyes, Now float to the window, Open the blinds, Now nevermind The cold shiver on your over-exposed spine Still lying on the bed where you left it, Soaking up the sleep from the mattress. And that's it; Feel your way to the kitchen, Bring the milk to a simmer, Spill the sugar on the surface of the counter, Thin-skinned calcium sipper.
Orion's Eyes 04:20
My eyes rise Toward the large dark And toward the long light Just in time I think I Can see the infinite sword Of wide-eyed Orion Silent, shimmering, lonesome He's stuck in the sky


Sleeplessness is three seasons' worth of endless nights
and half-lived days.


released April 13, 2011

Songs written and produced by Charlotte Oleena.
Co-poduced, mixed, and mastered by Luke Loseth.


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sea oleena


Image credit: Lawrence Fafard

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