Make Still Your Wings
by Cody Weathers

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I hear this song as an invitation to meditation;
to be still and focus on your breathing;
to quiet the frantic, frenetic actions of our bodies and our minds;
to rest our eyes and turn off the pulsing, mind numbing amusements of our screens.

It is okay to be still

"Make Still Your Wings" was the grand finale of The First Annual Checkmate Records Exemplathon on April 4, 1997 in Glenn's Ferry, Idaho. It is the final song on the Checkmate Recods sampler Monkey Eat Monkey. Not to put you back into a "FOMO" (Fear Of Missing Out) mindset, but you should definitely get that if you didn't get it after hearing "And You Say" on the previous episode. "Make Still Your Wings" also appears on Checkmate albums by other artists, including:

-Pronounced "Snausages" by el squeako

-Winter on Mercury, a criminally underrated live album by Splat Monkey that also contains the definitive version of "Daughter of Our Enemy".

-Least Significant Failures, an acoustic solo double greatest hits from Cody alone.

If you prefer this "web 2.0/interactivity" fad to those top down, information intensive websites (and if you do, why are you at lol), you can seek out more information about Cody here:

Cody Weathers at facebook


Tight the stripe that winds the frame
I wonder does it squeeze the shape?
Do the fingers find me on their own?

Like a swan from out the sun,
you glimmer on as moves the dawn.
If I catch your feather, will you fall?

Feather, fall down to me.
Darling, make still your wings.
Shelter under my tree.
Darling, make still your wings.

Hollow you as light as air, as
heavy as a rainy tear.
Gripped by fog, you struggle with my storm.


Spinning like an apple in the sun and rain,
when your seeds fall out like diamonds, I shall plant their grain.
Flashing and reacting like you have no pain,
but your head is in the larder and your bones are in the lane.


Fly over my golden-draped abode.
feather, fall down to me.
Touch me with your shape and face
--wrap me in your bones.
Darling, sway into me.

Sharp the teeth that bite the knave that
crushed the fruit that filled the cave.
Do the strangers bind without a home?



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