All Episodes
Atomic Heart — 158 episodes
Existence is resistance x last show in Hong Kong
You could've paid more for more but you didn't
You confess your fetish for the public housing block
Should I go back to simpler questions
In my living room, I have a painting of my living room
I once crawled on that grass when adults were young
Each breath patiently destroying me
Bride-to-be on the cusp of being reborn
I don't know how secrets are spread
To spin or to orbit
Pivots and dimes
The poetics of falling short
From stranger to more than
Avenues that pop up whenever they stall at a crowded intersection
Often boiling with I know
Things that are here versus things that aren't
A start with the finish inside itself
A foundational state of being without language
People here still ask me where I'm from
No witness but your quiet vow to begin
Most of this route is the wait itself
By the water an egret stands deep in thought
Mixed with a dash of daily gossips and good sense
How shall I translate your moon to mine
The noise of failure growing beautiful
All summer the children come to visit
Try having like-hat relationships with one another
Steadier ways to move through the world and we are learning them
Then too, the trees leaned a little funny
Dark in places, brighter in others
Others kept themselves to themselves
Like it’s covering the underside of the sun
Year after year, it goes on like this
In rooms full of strangers my most tender feelings writhe
Inhale to prove you're happy
I didn’t know how to navigate at first
Twisted under roof tiles like an incomprehensible spine
It’s not his fault that the shore has become the way it is
Paper carnations hang on to dear life
If only to ponder a conversation that might continue
Through the tunnel that points to a younger direction
As though they were almost beautiful people
Through the bluest of windows
A blue swipes across your beard like karaoke lyrics
Clowns unfurl across a velvet stage
Would he be okay with guarding the back side of the moon
I am a tourist and I am not
He walks as fine as any child once he’s on the ground
I wonder about those who wonder and die trying to capture that wonder
To deconstruct an air that keeps on counting down
Like an unleashing of all the bite-size planets
But it comes only to those who are patient
Ground floor tenants are very close to the ground indeed
Dignity, spontaneity, and ruthlessness must be combined to complete the ritual
Detached states of mind are warmer than they appear
What if I’m flattened by all the talking and being talked to
What my graduation trip might look like
Look far, I said. Look far
The dreamspeak sputnik
A spring afternoon as angry as any mother
Lifelong friends who follow the migration of news
An end date for a star to unglue itself
Shelving ointments in jars that drop and miss the passers-by
Too quick to declare myself the earliest
If only to document a struggle that doesn't appear anywhere
If at the end of tomorrow
On forgiveness and redemption
Clear windows, orbiting dust
With just enough anguish to keep the fingers from bleeding
Let there be a frame wide enough to fit us both
An item I had purposely forgotten to return to the library
Droning the most delicate parts of his inward eye
Knived and left lying in the darkest part of the alley
The time the penguin fell off the ledge and broke
When the waffles came, they ate like normal people would
With a coffee in hand, I go through the same doors
Her reading light and the night we spent in the bookstore
When so many painless versions of it are happening
If there's a window that overlooks the courtyard that's equally dark
Candles curving towards and around the piano
Either we think we've arrived or need a place to sit
Imagining being in it one day is the reason I'm trusting this
Why it doesn't have to be linear
Their contours sharpened and blurred and sharpened again
As the songs play, I scribble fragments of flashbacks
Moons and junes and ferries wheels
That flickering flame pulling shadows out of me
Too tired to get others to see the world the way I see it
I will read and I will think of you
Ink sky blue night
Cupcakes dreamt by the carefree mind meticulously edited
As I got up without me
Paralysis and the art of fiction
Eyes off the edge of the exit turnstiles
Had I started my own family
Dust and sunlight slanted a blur across your face
In this uncontainable night, be the mystery
Where words drift in gentle mutual redefinition of one another
And so I find myself amongst these shapely bodies
With boarding passes taped to their foreheads
May you stop at Phoenician trading stations to buy fine things
As I feel the air wisping between my fingers
Like an invisible hand caressing the water, ceaselessly
I stared up at the dimmed-down tower with the soundtrack looping in my head
Of aircrafts, the wind, and seatbelt signs
He is the snap of gravity, groundwater risen
Rinsing the daybreak through your damaged parts
Not even a year matters, and ten years are nothing
The deafness fell like a heavy snow
Whenever she struggles to come up with a sentence that captures the thing
Who are we with and with whom do we end up
I was right then I was wrong then I was right again
Blank scratches from a drying brush
She had made it to the 19th floor, her head touching the ceiling
In what direction and with what kind of flowers
Accompanied by the chirping of countless cicadas
As we anticipate this elusive, ephemeral jackpot
Branches that wobbled a little
Their silver, tapered nibs pointing to the center
Many worlds collide
Your sexless posture synonymous to the civil servant suits
Like an expanding task list, the mental laundry accumulates
When he couldn't decide which of her eyes to look in
Death is virginal also, roaming the good, great valley
Arriving there is what you're destined for
They flung us down and flailed above us
We must dream the dreams of a river seeking its course
Syllable after syllable shared out
Discovered through thinking in atmospheres not scenes
It was a small part of the pantomime
Neon brand names scrawling their best wishes
The noise of failure growing beautiful
Resonantly factual in the headiness of being craved
He knew that furniture could breathe in a way that's muffled
Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow
I'll remember it again after the party's over
The old man whose family has so many
My eyes burned with anguish and anger
Someone who happens to be dwindling in this very moment
Will I ever fill the void
Full moons and the faces of friends
A love letter is what I'm calling it
A trailer to live in, with several windows too
Museum of moments missed
The celestial body that's been orbiting around us
White lilies wrapped in cellophane
As though you're watching my impending self-destruction and decide to hit pause
Driving off in the absence of tracks and cables
Misty blankness hovering off the bridge of my nose
Unbothered by the frozen lid above their heads
Completely trusting time and its spiteful distortions
Parallel lines and synchronized beams that glow
Trash bins topped with cigarette ash
Yes I know that it won't last forever
Love in a time of coronavirus
Rituals, 49ers, Garden Hill
Atom C reads Rilke
Sinclair is the world's top scorer