Blue ink was not meant
For poems like that
It is now reserved for
fruit, juice and warmth
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Big Hand (Orleans XXXVI '91)
The big hand hoisted itself up onto the 12
And, as usual, felt an exhiliration (fleeting!)
That was tempered, dampened
By the second hand
Racing past
Beginning the fall of the Next Hour Empire
And wiping out, erasing away,
Civilisation with each tiny tick
If we set our watches too far ahead
it will always be dark
And, as usual, felt an exhiliration (fleeting!)
That was tempered, dampened
By the second hand
Racing past
Beginning the fall of the Next Hour Empire
And wiping out, erasing away,
Civilisation with each tiny tick
If we set our watches too far ahead
it will always be dark
The Window (Orleans XXXIV '91)
The cheese hung from the nail outside my window
The magpie tried to take it without
beating his wings against the window
He didn't want me to know he was there
But it was me who put the cheese outside my window
I had wanted him to eat it
I expected him to be at my window
I was awoken by the size of his wings
Which were unable to flop without frapping the window
The magpie tried to take it without
beating his wings against the window
He didn't want me to know he was there
But it was me who put the cheese outside my window
I had wanted him to eat it
I expected him to be at my window
I was awoken by the size of his wings
Which were unable to flop without frapping the window
The Buttered Toast Always Hits The Floor (Orleans XXXIII '91)
The buttered toast always hits the floor
Face down
The dirt sticks to the butter
Excuse the pretentiousness that follows but
My heart
is like a piece of buttered toast
Please keep the butter clean
What?
Is that what we thinks it is?
Vulnerability?
I'll wrap it in a metaphor so it isn't very clear
But yes
That is exactly it
Face down
The dirt sticks to the butter
Excuse the pretentiousness that follows but
My heart
is like a piece of buttered toast
Please keep the butter clean
What?
Is that what we thinks it is?
Vulnerability?
I'll wrap it in a metaphor so it isn't very clear
But yes
That is exactly it
Jumpin' On A Railroad (Orleans XXXII '91)
Jumpin' on a railroad
Track y'all get back
Suckin' on a big thumb
Lips all jet black
Wanderin' all around
Wanderin' all around
That little dog's waggin'
Her tail she be draggin'
My car she be flaggin'
With a bunch of backseat naggin'
Wanderin' all around
Wanderin' all around
I'm climbin' up that mound
There y'all take care
Puttin' up to that shell
My lips you're bare
I hear the ocean there
I hear the ocean there
Track y'all get back
Suckin' on a big thumb
Lips all jet black
Wanderin' all around
Wanderin' all around
That little dog's waggin'
Her tail she be draggin'
My car she be flaggin'
With a bunch of backseat naggin'
Wanderin' all around
Wanderin' all around
I'm climbin' up that mound
There y'all take care
Puttin' up to that shell
My lips you're bare
I hear the ocean there
I hear the ocean there
Thus We Whirled Along (Orleans XXXI) ('91)
The stairway opened down onto the
living room full of people,
of disparate ages and similar features
The men were loud, the women sly
in a funny shy way,
and the children enjoyed
each others company at a level
that seemed impossible-its energy
had to be self-destructing eventually, didn't it?
But no.
It grew, it fed upon the platters of
chips and vegetables which circled
bowls of dip.
It tinged off of glasses sitting on
dark tables, and the ice cubes that sat
in the tonic and gin
stayed cold.
This thus played with all the elements,
the men compensating by becoming
louder and funnier, and the women's
sly shyness was accentuated and therefore
broken more clearly when they
offered up a cutting comment about
the behavior of their men.
The men, the women, and the children,
thus whirled along, their features blurring
the same but immediately individually
identifiable.
Thus whirled along the gears,
turning the clock perfectly,
no second even a bit behind
and the roots of the tree
dug deeper into the winter ground,
covered with snow,
so that the leaves could force themselves
upon the world again in the spring
The fire roared
The plates clinged and clanged
The glasses emptied and filled
The children ate in one room
The adults in the next
The gears locked and unlocked
and locked again
Thus we whirled along
living room full of people,
of disparate ages and similar features
The men were loud, the women sly
in a funny shy way,
and the children enjoyed
each others company at a level
that seemed impossible-its energy
had to be self-destructing eventually, didn't it?
But no.
It grew, it fed upon the platters of
chips and vegetables which circled
bowls of dip.
It tinged off of glasses sitting on
dark tables, and the ice cubes that sat
in the tonic and gin
stayed cold.
This thus played with all the elements,
the men compensating by becoming
louder and funnier, and the women's
sly shyness was accentuated and therefore
broken more clearly when they
offered up a cutting comment about
the behavior of their men.
The men, the women, and the children,
thus whirled along, their features blurring
the same but immediately individually
identifiable.
Thus whirled along the gears,
turning the clock perfectly,
no second even a bit behind
and the roots of the tree
dug deeper into the winter ground,
covered with snow,
so that the leaves could force themselves
upon the world again in the spring
The fire roared
The plates clinged and clanged
The glasses emptied and filled
The children ate in one room
The adults in the next
The gears locked and unlocked
and locked again
Thus we whirled along
Music (Orleans XXX) ('91)
There is a sound
Coming from the thing
Held in the man's hands
There is a sound
Coming from the thing
Held between his ribs
There is a sound
Coming from the thing
Held within his skull
There is a sound
Coming from the thing
Held within her mouth
This is the sound of music
Coming from the thing
Held in the man's hands
There is a sound
Coming from the thing
Held between his ribs
There is a sound
Coming from the thing
Held within his skull
There is a sound
Coming from the thing
Held within her mouth
This is the sound of music
Orleans XXIX ('91)
Take the shirt from off my back
And lay it on the bed
Push the front door open
Push the thoughts out of my head
Catch the sun before it sets
"You'll catch your death standin' out there!"
You don't seem to catch my meaning
If you don't catch me I don't care
You can beg me all you want
You can beg me on your knees
Standing on this porch I'm just as
Happy as you please, please, please
Please take your finger off my shoulder
Take your hand off of my spine
Put the shirt back on the bed
I'll put it back on in my own time
Coz I've come up to this precipice
Before and I'll come down
Whether you are waiting for me or
Are nowhere to be found
Don't you see that I don't need you?
Except for when things are well
And it's the fact that you don't need me
That leads me to this hell
And lay it on the bed
Push the front door open
Push the thoughts out of my head
Catch the sun before it sets
"You'll catch your death standin' out there!"
You don't seem to catch my meaning
If you don't catch me I don't care
You can beg me all you want
You can beg me on your knees
Standing on this porch I'm just as
Happy as you please, please, please
Please take your finger off my shoulder
Take your hand off of my spine
Put the shirt back on the bed
I'll put it back on in my own time
Coz I've come up to this precipice
Before and I'll come down
Whether you are waiting for me or
Are nowhere to be found
Don't you see that I don't need you?
Except for when things are well
And it's the fact that you don't need me
That leads me to this hell
Orleans XXVIII ('91)
Was it reckless of him to kiss her
After waiting for so long?
Was it ruthless of him to love her
When he knew he'd soon be gone?
Was it heartless of him to tell her
That his heart would be true?
When he could in no way promise
That he could follow through?
And when she sleeps at night thinking
Of him so far away,
And when her thoughts are on him
every minute, every day,
could his love for her be cruel?
Could it do more harm than good?
Should he have said, "I want to"
When he didn't know if he could?
A scared man might answer yes
And one foolish answer no
We've got all the answers
The right ones? Never know
But by the nature of these questions
You know just what occurred
He kissed her long and softly
Til their tongues began to purr
You only have your one life
You'll have time and you'll have tears
I know it's hard not to feel a bit reckless
But you cannot live by fears
So I say it's not cruel
That it does more good than harm
You're always on the edge y'know
One of life's little charms
He'd have been reckless not to
He'd have let a love slip by
And no matter how many loves we're given
They are always worth a try
After waiting for so long?
Was it ruthless of him to love her
When he knew he'd soon be gone?
Was it heartless of him to tell her
That his heart would be true?
When he could in no way promise
That he could follow through?
And when she sleeps at night thinking
Of him so far away,
And when her thoughts are on him
every minute, every day,
could his love for her be cruel?
Could it do more harm than good?
Should he have said, "I want to"
When he didn't know if he could?
A scared man might answer yes
And one foolish answer no
We've got all the answers
The right ones? Never know
But by the nature of these questions
You know just what occurred
He kissed her long and softly
Til their tongues began to purr
You only have your one life
You'll have time and you'll have tears
I know it's hard not to feel a bit reckless
But you cannot live by fears
So I say it's not cruel
That it does more good than harm
You're always on the edge y'know
One of life's little charms
He'd have been reckless not to
He'd have let a love slip by
And no matter how many loves we're given
They are always worth a try
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