Eve Rounds

4:30am haunting

people often describe the music that my sister and i create, as “haunting”. to me, this as a compliment. i love the idea of the other side. of things unseen.

i’m fascinated by what’s left behind. a deep chill.

but i only enjoy the story. fictional. a harmless ghost.


no sleep

echoes rotate me awake.

and there they sit

indian style

somewhere between

my indigo – i gulp

and my yellow – i quiver


not a

too much candy tummy ache

nor a

sinking dread sensation

a well

black and mute



hey remember when baby jessica was trapped in that well back in ’87?  and of course “radio bart”, one of my all time favorite simpsons episodes.



i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards


what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you


sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we


It isn’t easy being a twin.   Others considered us as one two-part person,  while our parents saw,  in our conspiring, four or more.