🌞 Harvest 🌞
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
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 dad’s guitar
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
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 it’s Fruit ———SUMMER———
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 “You can keep that guitar if you want” he offered Down
Before I could get it home
'She Broke My G String' There’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 ———FALL———
*in a thick French accent
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
Generational Rust and Yellowing Browns
The title of an up and coming upcoming next…
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:
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
From the Almighty Heavenly Bog
“In the depth of fever
I wanted to give up last night, but I didn’t”
That line That there line is why we are here Oh, Capricious Cornucopia
“Land Back, Land Back, Land Back!"
“Land Back, Land Back!" “Land Back, Land Back, Land Back!
"Return what you have stolen, broken and withered away!" “Land Back, Land Back, Land Back!"
"I AM SEALING, SINGING HEALING EVERY DAY"
- RIOA wa RIOE