when i sleep and chance to dream
i hear your singing 'round my head
lonely long and drawn out lines
of girls before me in our bed

and gaps that i will never fill
like evening painted canyons, how they sing

when i sleep and chance to dream
i'm planting trees from wrong end up
picking parts to hold and keep
will they take legless root or turn to rust?

and gaps that i will never fill
like evening painted canyons, how they sing

and you, you laugh at leaves i collect
on any afternoon
and the way they turn to dust beneath my shoe
a season too soon and these are

and gaps that i will never fill
like evening painted canyons, how they sing

Evening painted canyons

Skin

little halo 'round your mother's head,
i was sleeping while you washed your hands

and supper's never serving when you finally want to eat
and swallows swell like creeping vines around the things
you never meant to keep 
(my god, my dear)

little home i carved above my chest
i only hate it when i loved it best

and caverns sing like wounded men who never should have led
and easy is as easy does but you can't bring yourself to say
(my god, my dear)

and all i ever want is everything,
and all you ever want is me, to sing

smaller stones make up a hearth where we would throw our flames
and i can hardly breathe for smoke, but tend it all the same.
and chimney sweeps are obsolete 
and i have sooted hands and feet
but i can't let this go, again
(my god, my dear)

and all you ever want is everything,
and all i ever want is you to sing

Supper

mother, I was far too young when you told me not to tell
the string that hung between your thighs, I knew it very well
but you told me it was a secret, and I thought you a doll
but now I spread my legs for secrets I can't keep at all
(you told me not to tell)

father, I was far too old when you told me how to love
the little bits of coin and gold, I'd never make enough
but you told me it was a secret, and I was raised a doll
and now I spend my time on sleepin, but I don't dream at all
(you told me not to tell)

wolves in cloaks knock on my door thinking I am made of straw
but I am muscle, brick and mortar
and I don't need your shitty jokes

Adrienne Hamil

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