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  • Brandt Maina

๐ŸŒž Harvest ๐ŸŒž


i was going to post this entire caption on IG but apparently i'm long-winded can a boy be prolific in Peace, please? anyway, bestie, i'm leaving this for my biographer





๐ŸŒž๐Ÿคฒ๐Ÿฝ

Harvest โ€”โ€”โ€”FALLโ€”โ€”โ€”

Soul

A year ago today an old friend invited me to his family's thanksgiving

Mahjong He played jazz guitar sweetly in my left ear and whispered strategies into the long forgotten secret of our proximity Green suede case He lent me his dadโ€™s guitar

โ€”โ€”โ€”WINTERโ€”โ€”โ€”

Healing I played it for hours and hours and hours Deconstructing sounds into spirits Sinking beneath my formal education for something more scintillating The unrefined unrefined muse within the muse

โ€”โ€”โ€”SPRINGโ€”โ€”โ€”

Wishes He moved

And took with him my first harvest Into the street, we shared music on the dark open breeze of his front porch

Horses This is not that guitar But the Seed of itโ€™s Fruit โ€”โ€”โ€”SUMMERโ€”โ€”โ€”

Showers A new friend brought two guitars to our camping trip We played into the sinking night

Sealing My first North American camping trip I played it for hours and hours and hours Soaking the Earth and finding myself buried within Her Memories Dawn โ€œYou can keep that guitar if you wantโ€ he offered Down

Gift

Before I could get it home

'She Broke My G String' Thereโ€™s a separate quite odd, quite funny story about how Collapsing Something convoluted about this and that and that and this Planting and gardening and harvesting Hours and hours and hours โ€”โ€”โ€”FALLโ€”โ€”โ€”

*in a thick French accent

Lemur



Rippling across the continent I took a trip to see an old soul friend Hours and Ours and Ours My eyes unable to discern what Destiny Manifested


Brandt Maina | RIOA wa RIOE, untitled 1-7 from Generational Rust and Yellowing Browns (Oct 17 2022)

4032 x 3024

digital photograph,


Generational Rust and Yellowing Browns

The title of an up and coming upcoming nextโ€ฆ

Where the wind comes sweeping down the protruding veins,

Injecting the grain with a colonial plague Something is killing the Native Spirits And this is the message She gifted me the night I returned:

Lift

Sift

These waves of woven shapes pour out of Us

The unrefined unrefined Shifting away from the performance of Products that once lost Our Voice This song has no meaning

Just a feeling The feeling has no meaning

Thong Justice and just was and just is the milling of emotions Hours and hours and hours of brushing chords and fingering steeling

Land

Stealing

From the Almighty Heavenly Bog

โ€œIn the depth of fever

I wanted to give up last night, but I didnโ€™tโ€

That line That there line is why we are here Oh, Capricious Cornucopia

Goodbye

Harvest ๐ŸŒž๐Ÿคฒ๐Ÿฝ

โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”

โ€œLand Back, Land Back, Land Back!"

โ€œLand Back, Land Back!" โ€œLand Back, Land Back, Land Back!


"Return what you have stolen, broken and withered away!" โ€œLand Back, Land Back, Land Back!"

"I AM SEALING, SINGING HEALING EVERY DAY"

- RIOA wa RIOE

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