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Bonus Flowers

by Maxshh

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On my table lies a stone. On the stone lies a glass of water. The water is black with dirt. The dirt is dry and dusty. I'd invite a cabbage to eat. The cabbage is very pleased. It likes the rock because it doesn't move. I was wearing a blue coat. It was cabbage and wieners. They were big cooked wieners, the smell was cabbage ah delicious smell of cabbage out not summer noise was running water in the kitchen somewhere.
Those are not teardrops my dear but daughter just a sheen of dew that lingers here Past other fields where other fathers lie who keep their daughters far better than I "What's wrong with you guys?" Thanks for the Crabapples, Giuseppe!
How to decide when to regret or not regret regardless if you think you can fold both up then it will get bored and stop can’t relax can’t enjoy adults they don’t decide to relieve fatigue and daily stress whether people age not important to those who planned will be more apt likely to wisely act each child same family with at least one satisfied person distinct, made to seem important but afterwards one must wonder is that refreshing? up thru the nose of the animal, the sightseeing eyes
maybe it's okay to be remote get familiar with “majesty" mountains and valleys and trees everything's a playground nothing’s too far away or weird (traveling is unusual, I see things I don't usually see) in the evening, look at the sky full of flowers and animals with colorful cellophane eyes seems like pretty magical magic to me (traveling is unusual, I do things I do not usually do and see things I do not see usually)
Dear big shot, I've listened to your songs so many times that I feel like I know you well, but I know that the fantasy isn't real. But I think peanut butter cereal would go well with chocolate milk. Let me know if you wanna meet at a convenience store.
Old John 01:00
Sometimes he's the preacher, trying to climb an invisible ladder Sometimes he's a thousand lightweight flowers, opening their mouths and screaming Sometimes he's the magic hour, exploring melodious dreamscapes of his sleeping neighbors Sometimes he's under waves of telephonic distortion He's an old pickup truck full of carrots and chestnuts Sometimes he's a companion for the foliage, and surrounding trees flock to him. It's a good, alive color
Last night in the fields I lay down in the darkness to think about death, but instead I fell asleep, as if in a vast and sloping room filled with those white flowers that open all summer, sticky and untidy, in the warm fields. When I woke the morning light was just slipping in front of the stars, and I was covered with blossoms. I don't know how it happened-- I don't know if my body went diving down under the sugary vines in some sleep-sharpened affinity with the depths, or whether that green energy rose like a wave and curled over me, claiming me in its husky arms. I pushed them away, but I didn't rise. Never in my life had I felt so plush, or slippery, or so resplendently empty. Never in my life had I felt myself so near that porous line where my own body was done with and the roots and the stems and the flowers began.
That I dream the lady does to be young and to be in her pretty red Christmas ball. Her dress looks beautiful like a swan. The swan floats with his thin white feathers when his soft snow head floats under to be like snow again. Then I like to be a woman like the one, to be with a long wing. "A man wants an aeroplane to like him." "A rat wanted to put its tail in an old woman's vagina." "If a scientist had bred pigeons the size of horses..." "A beloved duck gets cooked by mistake." "A man having to do with an éclair heard his mother breaking something, and figured it must be his father." "A husband and wife discover that their children are fakes." "Identical twin old men take turns at being alive." I love white to write to write my name. Please give Marion Pinski a white. I like to white because of write my name, I could. I know to how to spell it correct. I want white to write my name with. I like to write my name. I'd like white, now. I asked in a nice way. I love white, I do. To write, to write my name, yes. I got my own money, I do. Trying to. "To see the World in a Grain of Sand, and a heaven in a Wild Flower" - William Blake
secret path of least resistance safe but reachable final distance grateful for that ground under hoof my body in the background aloof no location or expectation meditation on each sensation: wet chin tucked in hamstrings burning lungs collapsing and expanding again forehead glistening leg hairs bristling ear drums listening to cornfields hissing skyline waning clip maintaining clouds allow crepuscular rays in few more turns till Middle Street ends daily tracing of town river bend softly whisper right hand blister check what condition my condition is in Fontanellen blithely tilted knees keep sinking in CT silt and rotting fish heads on Otter Island flushing down from White River Junction birds hard chirping Crimson whistling hippopotamus giggling again
wake up in the dark reach for a mug of more armed with a gulp before I reach the door lips licking stir sentences into sense sinews untangling morning stiffness transform where I am to where I wanna be at the top of the tallest thickest tree usually *blink* I'm on a branch cause I lied that I could climb faking it till I'm making it or at least doing fine not working too fast not worried if I'll fall when I reach the top it's not too tall after all so I cannonball from ceiling into metaphysical mud festered in fecund filth till concepts clung shimmy off the chaff from my fur and appraise does the performance perform as a point or as a shape? 5-gallon bucket the faucet always drips the cup is only being filled so stop and take a sip try to philosophize sit and meditate or doing human things like walking on my leg character catchphrase to recite and replay: "Drink water, stretch, and listen to Hella every day"
Tuckemin 01:42
Beep Beep 08:15
I cannot recall what I was going to say The beep threw me off when this is over I'll suddenly remember what I meant beg for forgiveness I wasn't expecting to miss you after the beep the silence I scramble to fill surely more than asked for rambling beyond decorum with any luck you'll get me back later


~~To purchase a groovy light blue cassette of this album,
please visit:

~~Music video for "Crabapples" by Jim Warren:

~~Music vid for "Achilles Second Stand" by moi:

Written by Max Goldstein mostly summer 2018,
when Tstomp moved from Easthampton to Hadley.
Recorded April & August 2020, while isolating at home.
Everything performed by Max except where noted
Mixed and mastered by Anni Casella / Shape Recording

I lovingly borrowed lyrics from these wonderful poems,
the first four of which are in Natalie Goldberg's book:
Writing Down The Bones:
"The Stone and I" - Beverly Opse
"Everybody" - Shirley Nelson
"Maple Leaf" - Betty Freeman
"Give Me A White" - Marion Pinski
"White Flowers" - Mary Oliver

"Maple Leaf Etc" also contains some amazing lines
from Russell Edson's book With Sincerest Regrets
and a line by William Blake

"Crabapples" lyrics from the Adventure Time
episode of the same name

"Beep Beep" features a haiku
by Debbi Antebi


released September 24, 2021

Cover art by Sarah King (@flannel_and_teacups)
Inside art by Lydia Berry (lydiaaltheaberry.com)
Title from Chris Weisman's Impose interview, 2015
Andrew Jones played upright bass on tracks 2 & 4
Adam Bosse played electric guitar on track 7
Drew Vandewinckel played saxophone on track 7
Skyler Lloyd stomped on track 10
Crimson Blue chattered on track 10, whistled on track 11
Track 11 contains a sample of my absolute favorite song ever:
"Welcome To The Jungle Baby, You're Gonna Live" by Hella
Friends & family left voicemails on track 13
Special thanks to Sara Kochanski for lending the books
that became lyrical fodder

Released by Exploding In Sound Records in 2021


all rights reserved



Maxshh Hadley, Massachusetts

don't forget to stretch, drink water, and listen to Hella every day

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