we were glossolalian

did you know this song was written for you
for my halves both & what we heathen were
we didn’t need always hold us inside
for three to abide
each breath’s suppression of rising horror
foretold our last for to rot in our shells
still in these spaces we let love abide
while we could abide

& the treetops swayed throughout all our days
now their roots reach down into our decay
the nourishment of our fading in dirt
& the love inside
all dogmas & empty puffery spent
& the former lives we laid wreaths upon
enkindled to the last our chosen tongue
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la

did you know this song was chiselled in clay
each note an impression of quelled dismay
a triptych of anthems named for the day
for three to abide
all we wanted was renewal here now
clear hearts to drum away the chill of now
for to see we three through to noonday stride
while we could abide

& the treetops swayed throughout all our days
now their roots reach down into our decay
the nourishment of our fading in dirt
& the love inside
all the blue grey craters of the moon say
there’s no man in the sky or dreams to weigh
just enkindled nullifidian tongues
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la

& here in the earth we three will abide
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la
treetops unearthing the love deep inside
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la

tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la
tra la la, tra la la
tra la la la la
tra la la

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

GUEST POST // a song for no one listening by Lesbihonest

i feel most like myself with my lipstick smudged
headphones on
wind in my hair like a prayer half said
the sky’s bleeding peaches and cigarette smoke
and i swear
god has been ghosting me again

i light one up with trembling hands
flick the ash like it means something
like im someone
the musics soft
but it drowns out the memory of her laugh
almost

theres no one watching
but i still pose
like the world is a movie
and im the girl who never makes it out of the last scene

smoke drips from my lips like secrets
i will never say out loud
i dont know who im supposed to be
but at golden hour
i almost remember

and i keep dancing with ghosts in the glow of the streetlights
kissing memories i shouldve let go
i wear heartbreak like a starlet
but no one ever shows to the show
sunsets the only thing that stays
so i let it paint me red and gold

by LESBIHONEST
© All rights reserved 2025

beyond song

destiny is not only the future
it’s the promise of elsewhere
a network beyond the face of time
are you ready to raise the visor
are you ready to smile at the eons
to kiss goodbye the bones of time
or maybe break the bones with a trumpet
destiny is the future’s music
strumming at the edges of time
sing like there’s a yestermorrow
buzz them all with a found falsetto
nail the meta to the ghost of time
destiny is not the only future
there’s also the promise of elsewhere

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2023

let it rain

have you dared to declaim with your true face
have you seen how they inward flinch
have they made a monster of the hole in you

have you longed for truest validation
have their eyes doth pummelled your face to tears
have you hidden your tears under veil of rain

if only this was a happy song
if only we could fill our lungs again
if only for the air ‘tween the drops of rain

have you pulled truer weeds from the broken earth
have you doth counted and more so for praying
have you monstered after the four-leaf clover

have you truly known that you never belonged here
have you paid your respects to friend grief again
have you layed yourself down in the face of pain

if only this was a happy song
if only we could feel our lungs again
if only for the air ‘tween the drops of pain

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2022

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Vagabond Song. by Bliss Carman (William)

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood–
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

by BLISS CARMAN (WILLIAM) (1861-1929)
Public Domain Poetry