︎ BAND: PARROTDREAMER@GMAIL.COM
WALK SO SILENTLY THAT THE BOTTOMS OF YOUR FEET BECOME EARS.
︎ GOOD EYE RECORDS
NEW YORK, 2020
︎ Open your eyes and there is a tree before you stretching up for miles. Sitting in the branches are parrots of different colors with a variety of markings. They must be a family; they all have a red-tipped left wing. As if their wings had been dipped in blood orange. Your fingers feel grass and slip through the tall blades. Parrots swoop by overhead and call out to each other. The sky behind the tree seems blurred but filled with tiny indigo lights. You realize you can understand what the parrots are calling out. They are calling out your names, all of them, over and over. Your names are spilling from the parrots’ beaks, individual letters floating out, colored in yellows, deep reds, and kelly green. The parrots’ sounds begin to fade as your body sinks deeper into the grasses, damp earth closing in on your vision of the tree, of the blurred sky, of the bright-winged parrots. Cool darkness covers your eyelids, and you sleep.