The Garden

We should just die in each other’s arms, now. It will never be like this again.

It’s already changing in ways we can’t even know or understand.

So perfect now, but it’s only like this because were innocent… until now.

It’s true, there is fate.

Terrible fate.

Our fate is to taste the perfect fruit of the garden, then fall from grace.

Aftermath

The storm has raged and seethed and sung

And rent the air and left undone

The knots that tie both time and tide

With niceties now cast aside (like pauper's clothes)

Bruised, spent and fragrant lovers

Linger rapt in sweet repose

The final space

Death awaits at journey’s end

A silent half-thought sentence

Suspended in mid-air

Neither floating up nor down; just there

With care I would attend the words

wrought for that closing phrase

So many drafts, how densely filled that final august page

How tedious, how tiresome the bleak unmetered text

In vain anticipation of some good that must come next

Attend you now the space before that final deathly dot

It’s there for you to fill with love,

for that is all you’ve got.

Bathrooms are Dangerous (Parts I&II)

The elongated shadow cast by the timber cottage blocked the morning sun’s rays from reaching the narrow path by which the boy and his grandmother approached the beach each day.

The small building was plain and unremarkable except for the kitchen chimney which jutted skywards at an awkward angle due to an error in its construction.

Translated in dark silhouette onto the rippled sand of the beach, the chimney’s conical steel cap sometimes seemed to be pointing out the spot where the boy’s grandmother would wait, towel in hand, for him to return from the freezing foam of the ocean each day.

A Sunday Morning (thinking of someone who’s got themselves in a bit of bother)

We never think we’re bad

We never think it’s us

Just maybe a little mad...

But we don’t like to discuss, it

doesn’t matter that we’re haunted

By the stupid things we've done

That we still live in the shadows cast

By wounded friends and lovers

And cower, cold, and shunned by others

It’s over... and over again

It’s the stare of former friends

At wits’ end...

At the wit’s end.

Canute was no Fool

https://vimeo.com/308830530 This one (Canute was no Fool) was recorded as a demo sometime around 2014/15 on the single-track Otari MX-5050 you see in the video, which was shot on iPhone 5S. Once again I've done considerable messing with the original files to try to overcome their respective shortcomings.

  1. Canute was no Fool (acoustic) Bill Hunt 4:18
  2. Van Gogh Print (acoustic) Bill Hunt 4:34
  3. Torch Song (acoustic) Bill Hunt 2:46
  4. Everything is Going to Change (acoustic) Bill Hunt 4:32
  5. Your Move (acoustic) Bill Hunt 4:06
  6. Sea of Love (acoustic) Bill Hunt 3:28
  7. Bill Hunt - Sea of Love (from the album Upwey) Bill Hunt 4:20
  8. Bill Hunt - Song 55 (from the album Upwey) 4:10