Every scrap of paper filled with the alarm
Of a false and incoherent geography
I was after portraits of a fake Milan
Forged by effete thieves
Whose hideout hides it well
The thing-in-itself: an empty shell,
A carapace it sloughs
Sticking like a strictly-limber string
The noumenal (moon) cuts a “c” into its skull
It holds the site eclipsed
I wanted to only behold
The city spread out like a palimpsest
We called it “crescent sequence”
When the lights aligned, the open door appeared into the Vault of Cataleptic Lapse
The crystal bridge collapsed into The Sphere of Aimless Architecture
An angled branch on a tomb
Secretly draws the room
Perhapsy’s latest—which is also available on translucent cyan vinyl—draws from shoegaze & dreampop, and tells a wrenching true story. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 1, 2018