Threshold

by GODHEADSCOPE

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credits

released December 1, 2009

All music/lyrics by M.Rosin.
Instruments performed by M.Rosin; vocals by M.Rosin and Cindy Lau.
Mastered by Robert Rich at Soundscape (Mountain View, CA), robertrich.com.
Photography by G.Rosin/4P Creations, www.4pcreations.com. Used by kind permission.

Copyright (c) 2009 Meristem Music/GODHEADSCOPE, www.godheadscope.com.

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Track Name: Threshold, Part Two
From the far room,
a figure with many faces

stumbles
into the hall—

forgets, for a moment,
the place of doors.
Walls,

many colored,
bead with sweat.

Hands
fumble for edges
in the kaleidoscope:
doorframes
in shifting light.

This one
does not want
to be found.

Thick air:
footfalls in puddles
recall

when breath was all—

before the ceiling
rose, upwelling,

from the floor—

before the earth
broke
into rooms;

doors.
Track Name: Threshold, Part Four
The dog,
curled
with her ball,
waits for variation
in the man
curled
by the door.
Whiskers wick
moisture from air.

She breathes in rhythm,
water dripping;
voices in the vent.

Eyes intent.

A shift in the light.

Front paws
become palms.

She stands;

glides
across the room;
grasps his shoulders.

Shakes him.
Speaks:

“Why are you
bent
to the shape of

the doorway,
pressed
to the threshold,

praying,
when you and I
could be playing?”

The dog,
curled
with her ball,
waits for variation
in the man
curled
by the door.
Whiskers wick
moisture from air.
Track Name: Threshold, Part Five
She has not touched
a moment
in days.

Gaunt.
Paper skin.

She sits at the table.

Images assess
bones,
angles.

Melting ice
seeps from the refrigerator,

spreads
across the floor.

Touches her toe,
tickles a memory—

another room.

She brought language.
He brought colores,
spoke in broken Spanish.
She painted flores.

Thin muscles
tighten with resolve.

She stands,

shuffles
across the floor—

water
soaks her soles—

opens
the door—

more supple skin
bends with her steps—

clasps a hand.
Track Name: Threshold, Part Six
The air—
humid with child.

Two melodies

intertwine—

improvise a whisper:

arms that will need to learn to hold,
hands that will need to learn to let go.

A breath
cools their bodies.
Track Name: Threshold, Part Seven
Drip.

Drip.


Drops


fall


past blue drapes;
open window,
yellow petals,
green stems.

Strike the soil.

Split.

Smaller droplets

cling

to the surface, then
seep toward roots.

He reaches,
pinches a stem.

Breaks the flow.

Places the flower behind
his daughter’s beaming ear.


“Beautiful,” he says.

She smiles.