We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.
  • Digital Track
    Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

    You own this



Bang beats out on bellies. Keep the beads on bed palms –
piss under bridges. Plains pale by burning candle vein.
Ice bricks trap raptor fangs, fancy. Miss tongue kissing
spectral vapors, tricky. Swallow not the bird, the smoke ghost,
parallel phantom dance in a brown box.
Ties tourniquets with angel wings and kite strings.
I was born on broken bottles on a Brooklyn park bench.
Cut teeth on concrete in canyon fissures,
Spoon-fed spiders in a spiral of snake bones.
Cake in his pockets, can’t wait to say grace though.
Wake so congested in space the weight is glacial.
Grief me to the marrow. Jesus talks you speechless,
Star-bellied sneetches, parfait with peaches,
Tied to the ocean pulse on beaches
Recipient of new city, walked home
With boxes in pockets, shot water in wrists,
Wrote home about this, we write home about this.
What’s this about, right? We home now?
Walking blood ghost dogface brown dick
In see through fabric like cat coats.
See me? I see you. I’m Jake Sully.
Fuck strange with nerves braided.
Drift water on wood, Zatara with a pocketknife
On a sandy, salt shore never more over pages
And fruit. Straws for juice. Draw stars for you.
On roofs in youth. Wrote coat hanger bangers
In corners for the kitties, corpses just as pretty.
Please git yr geetar and sing me a ditty.
I never ever heard that chord before.
No, really.
Months ago, I was a rock with a fleece robe,
Cross-legged in a jail cell – didn’t have to shout
Shit at god – we simply watched my breath.
If I had gills I’d resurrect – I don’t mean gills on the neck.
I mean the blue and red. I mean soup in bed.
For sinews and coal, silver and gold.
Father mother’s blood in visages. Now cut?
The morning, the what?
Burnt bread in my last visit from that same phantom.
We push princesses into shallow ocean
When we drink we think we awful.
I just – nope – no. I just this:
I just hope they’re watching and listening to all
Those frightened animals under the bed.
Lord, I just hope they nourished.


from Vejigante: The Humminbird Remix, released February 10, 2017


all rights reserved



buster wolf Tallahassee, Florida

cats, 8 bit dreams, liminal space. skeletons. self indulgent - always sorry - never mean it - CITRONELLA ROOM _ 間もなくインターネットと現実の世界にやってくる

contact / help

Contact buster wolf

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this track or account