The Crane Bag Podcast
The lid to the forest is a green door the one you go through when you step onto the path the one you hear slam behind you when the dark enters into your bones the stars are very quiet there and hotter than anything you've felt before when you lie down little animals come to give you a new name you won't remember it later but it will change how you walk to your car in the morning with your jangly keys in your hand trying not to be late.
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
The furry brown leaves aren't leaves at all but something else, animals from the understory working to a set of instructions known to no human though Leonardo Da Vinci did manage to glimpse them briefly. He tried to write about what he saw, to paint it, to get it into some fixed form but it just wriggled away. And then outside the water-seller started up with his salty and disastrously memorable song.
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
What happens in the silence stays in the silence. The lady with the sword sleeps under the water. A hedgehog ambles towards a stream, a cloud contemplates the songs of the lemon trees. Somewhere in the desert a lost pocketwatch begins to rust.
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
Does science kill what it loves? Does the biologist ask the sparrow's permission before placing a microchip on its shoulder? What world is this we live in?
info_outlineThe Crane Bag Podcast
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