BIG WET NEEDLES - ALBUM

TuesdayNeverComesBand

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Album #56
 
The branching fingers of giant firs twitch. Fluid drips off their big wet needles. Muted shades creep upwards, their spongy forms suggesting structures in the clearing. Color snaps through the haze, cracking the air and echoing back as murmured artifacts from a culture of lightning. Long fine hairs of white smoke seep from the half-smoked husks of hot sacrificial char. A repetition suffuses the slow-shifting roll of deep tone, the vox loci, subtly, but irresistibly syllabifying in a singular modulation: Yarakunda, Yarakunda, Yarakunda, Yarakunda..