I pulled my string, though I held no mark, I stood poised and ready.
From beyond the veil I watched, and though many came,
I never let fly, my weapon held steady.
Hunters hunted, some would comment, “Is he hunter?
Why does he not kill then?”
While I aged they said, eat, you grow thin.
I said for this I am not hungry.
Then late one moonlit evening. I had a vision,
or maybe death, or just dreaming.
I saw my mark from beyond the veil, tasted victory
but an untried hand will often fail,
my shot went wild and the kill was left standing.
I saw my companions, the hunters, take aim,
at what to them was just another kill,
with practice and taut release it fell.
Each shot merging and dying.
The mark was no longer unknown, from beyond the veil,
but an entity spread out and encompassing.
In my time as hunter.
Reminded of the lessons of release and to kill and plunder.
Then I felt root, tasted water, was the flower.
I knew blooming and wilting.
When I awoke, it was with body and with voice.
Good for moving and to sing.
All the while, reminded of my time as hunter,
while paralyzed in a perfect stance waiting for plunder he says,
“I don’t need your love, you’re not worth my art.”
And stands there poised with his string.
"I don’t want your love, you’re not my mark.”
While he waits in his perfect stance at the ready
All the while, reminded of the flower,
the lessons of root and release, the song and shower, where he says
I’ll move for you,
let go, my mark,
you feed me well, I’ll bloom and I’ll sing.
I shoot for you,
my root my mark,
I’ll feed you well, I’ll bloom and I’ll sing.
Where it blossoms it is spring.
Where it blooms there is hunting.
Where it flowers someone pulls a string.
In their release there is merging.
Lila Tristram’s ASMR-like approach to singing gets a worthy match in the lush and luxurious arrangements of The Last Dinosaur. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 4, 2023