Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Danny Reisch
We could just sit here all night and let Agnes Obel peel herself open. We could sit here all night and let her peel us open. We would let her watch us sleep. We would let her watch us cry. We would let her cradle us, cradle other fools too, if she had the patience. We could all just get it out -- whatever it was that we deemed necessary to expunge. We would like to be sitting close to her so that she could hear our whispers, like she might hear a bellow. We know that she'd be best at understanding all of the spidery thoughts that we have racing through our body, but we still feel that we need to be careful. We need to listen to her as well, not just let loose on her. She gives us so much and we must wait our turns. She is a lioness and she is a nurse. She's got the rag to wipe up all of the milk that's spilled on the floor -- the milk that we spilled on the floor that we can't bring ourselves to tackle. We have embraced the space between our hearts and our mouths. We've been pulling the cotton out of our throat for so damned long that we're amazed with each new scratchy strand of it that's yanked over our teeth. We think that these parts will work when we've finally gotten it all out.