Late Night Elegy

I scream without sound
and what I say is this:

I am the cobalt blue bud vase
on your window shelf, devoid

of buds; the yellow dandelion plucked
from the yard, invading pervasive green;

the dying bleeding heart in the shade
garden, my time over for a season.

I am the cat’s fur, smooth and silky, hairs
flying in all directions as you stroke Me.

I am the collared puppy, making my way
despite the obstacles, to relieve myself.

I am the rice pilaf, fresh oregano and chives
sprinkling my body, ready to be eaten.

I am the load of laundry souring in the wash
tub in the basement, waiting to be unloaded.

I am the last puff of your cigarette, the end
now a punitive reminder of your transgressions.

I am the ocean at night, lapping still at the edges
where children and grown-ups alike played

for a few hours beneath a blazing sun. I am the guitar
in the backseat of the car, needing a new string,

waiting for the touch of your fingers, for the blood
of your fingers, for the life of your fingers.

I am screaming with no sound. I am the knowledge
that most screams, despite their urgency, and in light

of their need to be known, are never heard.

Lay Down Your Weary Tune set to Photography of Miranda Jane

One of my favorite Dylan songs ever...comforts me...

"And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings

no voice can hope to hum..."

"I stood unwound beneath the skies

and clouds unbound by laws...

Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.

Struck by the sounds before the sun,
I knew the night had gone.
The morning breeze like a bugle blew
Against the drums of dawn.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.

The ocean wild like an organ played,
The seaweed's wove its strands.
The crashin' waves like cymbals clashed
Against the rocks and sands.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.

I stood unwound beneath the skies
And clouds unbound by laws.
The cryin' rain like a trumpet sang
And asked for no applause.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.

The last of leaves fell from the trees
And clung to a new love's breast.
The branches bare like a banjo played
To the winds that listened best.

I gazed down in the river's mirror
And watched its winding strum.
The water smooth ran like a hymn
And like a harp did hum.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.

Roundabout

Another song I can't get outta my head. Alas, more to come.

In and around the lake...

Huey Lewis and the News - I want a new drug

In the middle of the journey of our life,
I came to myself within a dark wood where
the straight way was lost.

Dante


*

How many times have I asked that question?
How many times do I misquote and say,

In the middle of the journey of my life...

Many...perhaps many more to come.

A life and a death. My aunt, my father's only
sister...the last remaining of that family. Gone.

Of course, we are here. We share the blood.
We share the lineage.

*

I am scratched and bruised and aching
from my labors. I should not feel these things.

Young as I am. Middle as I am.

*

Finished rereading The Half-Blood Prince.
Glad I reread. Time to start the other.
Reading takes us away. Away from the reality
of this war and the immediacy of death.

Away from siblings arrested and siblings
working themselves to death and siblings
settling for the best that comes.

Away from dead fathers and very alive mothers
who cannot give of themselves.

Away from joblessness and rootlessness
and inability to find peace in acceptance.

*

Damn if Huey Lewis and the News didn't
just pop in my head.

I Want A New Drug.

*

Out. Out, damned spot!

Struggling, struggling, struggling

Maybe May be

that it is time to reread

perhaps

The Dispossessed

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dispossessed

Rereading The Half-Blood Prince

as I have forgotten too much to go forward.

The Deathly Hallows sits on my bedside

and I am oh! so anxious to read it!

Wet brain.

Going now to research that topic.