This Be The Mannekensvere

by James Hull.

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1.
Static home and slate canals Fire station, remote prisons Thorns and brush and ice and slush All wires and creeper, twisted tarmac dreamers And tonight we watch the last in the season Come to pass then disappear A finale written out on till receipts You’ll only get as high as crack in chimneys As low as low hanging planes, Beneath a rented sky in a rented loft A folding bed, a creeking loss The distant exposed wires of a telephone box An automatic door that don’t open anymore Two lovers in the aisles, two herons on the canal side “And another day will be the past, A valley cropped by fat neglected chance That we insensately forbore to fleece On this we blame our last Threadbare perspectives, seasonal decrease”* But what if all we did was dance through the valley of our circumstance, we ended up around here for now with pigeon feathers on our crowns, Bound to what we share, although we never fit you can’t see hell while you’re building it *From Triple Time by Philip Larkin

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This is the first new music I've put out to anyone in about five years I think. I hope you're into it.

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released December 22, 2018

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James Hull. London Borough Of Lewisham, UK

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