Tag Archives: death

My darlings

3 Dec

Bon Iver – Beach Baby

The wait of it all, filling

books with those I won’t kill,

books my darlings fill.

Scraps will fall, telling

how I keep my memories;

ones I’ll forget eventually

’cause sequences, strings and strands.

Cross my I’s and dot my and’s,

’cause I don’t know the state I’m in,

nor the vessel Magdalene,

or why old apologies

were so self serving.

–

Ways they taper, silent

does an end appear.

Does it dull the fear?

Is there a place to hide it?

Well I hide mine here,

scrawled within some post or mirror,

’cause I’ve never known the pain,

the cringe, the blow across the face

of losing such a piece of me.

But that’s how it has to be.

The sorrow on that last reprise,

to read my words through fresh new eyes.

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Wake

9 Nov

Rain (Setting Out in the Leaf Boat) – The Innocence Mission

There are times I want to tell you what you want.

That life’s the knot that keeps the boat upon the shore.

And who am I to deny you?

We share a tender untruth.

There are times I want to tell you what I want.

Perhaps a life untied resides in minds and sighs

of others? Helpless answer.

A tear a cry for candor.

Given that we’re given such a slender light

and sing at fifty plus two million microhertz.

We could reduce our fractions

and try to gain some traction.

A lonesome and a foreign form of friction

with a cadence that spans and pans for miles.

Denial that is dutifully

overclocking futilely.

And in the end if you intend to put this off,

the concept that the shapes of vessel’s wakes

are wings of doves.

Echoed loves.

Your suffering, this reckoning approaches.

Folks we know get shuffled off in coffers.

Your point of view

will shatter you.

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Halls

22 Oct

Gangbang Suicide – Kevin Drew

When you first spoke you filled my halls,

Reinforced with madrigal.

I swept, I swooned, I wept, I clawed.

Well you and me, we did it all.

They come to me to take a dime

every pulse past one past mine.

And on my slab my head to toes.

The skillful hands. The hook to nose.

Calming mist, sound of rain,

bottling my strange refrain.

You can see in lined up tinctures

every thought, a blaze of pictures.

Will you see the man I am,

or the man you loved from Bellingham?

Regardless of your choice

forever hear my love my voice.

Minutes spent, our pas de deux,

softer moments, rough ones too.

Counting constellations on your face,

moving in to our first place.

Leaky sink all patter piddle,

our free bed that sunk in the middle.

Our book of love by definition

written by the traits we’re given,

mingling through calls and cues.

Practicing. Scuffing shoes.

Well our tunes they grew with age.

I don’t regret a single page.

When we’re vials behind the glass,

docked the boat, tied the mast,

left behind our chest of gold,

written word, pictures posed.

Blueprint us, not the same.

Just our house, just our frame.

But memories friends recall,

forever speak and fill our halls.

On the day the din falls flat

our frame remains a simple map.

Because in the end that’s who we are.

Some shrouded shapes, lying on a bridge, looking at the stars.

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New New Ceremony

8 Dec

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Harmonics – Gareth Dickson

Wrapped in the blanket we wove,

we’re waiting out the storm.

Sand sleet whips at windows worn.

The sands of time will eat our love.

The first tear in the fur of a bear

only after we’re bones and a pile of hair.

Thunder.

We witness the mixture of sediment.

And the ceremony is grand,

but love isn’t sand

and the process loses it’s target sentiment.

All we have is this wind.

We’re going to keep each other warm.

We cant protect from all these elements.

But we’ll leave this earth in finer form.

image:Mihai Balan

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Bodies and minds

11 Dec

Sufjan Stevens – Justice Delivers It’s Death

We’re so temporary, it feels like such a long time.

But it’s quite the contrary.

We’re only here for a handful of songs,

and then we’re pushed out into the night into the cold.

And one day we’re all going to fall apart.

We’re going to break our bodies or

lose our minds and I guess that’s fine

but I’d rather be shot in the head or die asleep in my bed.

I’m living but I ache for life.

I’m sleeping in dreams and

my job is a reel I’ve seen too many times.

When will I wake from this life that I live?

Because some day soon I’m going to come apart.

I’m going to wreck my body and

lose my mind, and I guess that’s fine.

But I’d rather get a clot in the head and die asleep in my bed.

image:Sirja Ellen

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