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Joanna Newsom - Jackrabbits

I was tired of being drunk.

My face cracked like a joke.

So I swung through here

like a brace of jackrabbits,

with their necks all broke.

I stumbled at the door with my boot,

and I knocked against the jamb.

and I scrabbled at your chest, like a mute,

with my fists of ham.

trying to tell you that I am

telling you I can —

I can

love you again;

love you again.

I'm squinting towards the East.

My faith makes me a dope.

But you can take my hand,

in the darkness, darling,

like a length of rope.

I shaped up overnight, you know,

the day after she died.

when I saw my heart,

and I'll tell you, darling,

it was open wide.

what with telling you I am

telling you I can —

I can

love you again;

love you again.

And it can have no bounds, you know.

It can have no end.

You can take my hand

in the darkness, darling,

when you need a friend.

And it can change in shape or form,

but never change in size.

Well the water, it ran deep, my darling,

where it don't run wide.

The feather of a hawk was bound,

bound around my neck;

a poultice made of fig,

the eager little vultures pecked.

And a verse I read in jest

in Matthew, spoke to me;

said There's a flame that moves

like a low-down pest

and says, You will be free

only, tell me that I can

tell me that I can:

I can love you again;

love you again.

Love you again, love you again.

Love you again, love you...

nicolestishenko

Crufts 2020 in fountain pen

My favourite song on the new Damien Jurado record and simply beautiful.

#damien jurado #singersongwriter #mamabird

#damien jurado #live music #paste studio NYC

patperry

photo4life

#7 - Tashi Lhunpo Monastery

Nikon FM2, Kodak colorplus200 by colourful life

In California by Joanna Newsom

My heart became a drunken runt On the day I sunk in this shunt To tap me clean Of all the wonder And the sorrow I have seen Since I left my home: My home, on the old Milk Lake Where the darkness does fall so fast It feels like some kind of mistake (Just like they told you it would; Just like the Tulgeywood) When I came into my land I did not understand: Neither dry rot, nor the burn pile Nor the bark-beetle, nor the dry well Nor the black bear But there is another Who is a little older When I broke my bone He carried me up from the riverside - To spend my life In spitting-distance Of the love that I have known I must stay here, in an endless eventide - And if you come and see me You will upset the order You cannot come and see me For I set myself apart But when you come and see me In California You cross the border of my heart - Well, I have sown untidy furrows Across my soul But I am still a coward Content to see my garden grow So sweet & full Of someone else's flowers - But sometimes I can almost feel the power Sometimes I am so in love with you (Like a little clock That trembles on the edge of the hour Only ever calling out "Cuckoo, cuckoo") - When I called you You, little one In a bad way Did you love me? Do you spite me? Time will tell if I can be well And rise to meet you rightly While, moving across my land Brandishing themselves Like a burning branch Advance the tallow-colored Walleyed deer Quiet as gondoliers While I wait all night, for you In California Watching the fox pick off my goldfish From their sorry, golden state-- And I am no longer Afraid of anything, save The life that, here, awaits - I don't belong to anyone My heart is heavy as an oil drum And I don't want to be alone My heart is yellow as an ear of corn And I have torn my soul apart, from Pulling artlessly with fool commands - Some nights I just never go to sleep at all And I stand Shaking in my doorway like a sentinel All alone Bracing like the bow upon a ship And fully abandoning Any thought of anywhere But home My home Sometimes I can almost feel the power And I do love you Is it only timing That has made it such a dark hour Only ever chiming out "Cuckoo, cuckoo"? - My heart, I wear you down, I know Gotta think straight Keep a clean plate; Keep from wearing down If I lose my head Just where am I going to lay it? - (For it has half-ruined me To be hanging around Here, among the daphne Blooming out of the big brown; I am native to it, but I'm overgrown I have choked my roots On the earth, as rich as roe Here Down in California)

#poetry #lyrics #songwriting #joanna newsom #california

Genius.

#composer #jon brion #paul thomas anderson #filmscore #piano #Punch Drunk Love

Son of Sam.

Elliot Smith on the Jon Brion show. Super rare footage, circa 2000.

#elliot smith #jon brion #son of sam

Eating Poetry

BY MARK STRAND

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.

There is no happiness like mine.

I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.

Her eyes are sad

and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.

The light is dim.

The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,

their blond legs burn like brush.

The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.

When I get on my knees and lick her hand,

she screams.

I am a new man.

I snarl at her and bark.

I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

#Mark Strand #poetry

From Nathaniel Russell’s Fake Flier series.

http://nathanielrussell.com/fake-fliers-1

#fake fliers #nathaniel russell

malevolent climes

“The camel has a big dumb ugly hump. But in the desert, where prettier, more streamlined beasts die quickly of thirst, the camel survives quite nicely. As legend has it, the camel carries its own water, stores it in its stupid hump. If individuals, like camels, perfect their inner resources, if we have the power within us, then we can cross any wasteland in relative comfort and survive in arid surroundings without relying on the external. Often, moreover, it is our "hump" - that aspect of our being that society finds eccentric, ridiculous, or disagreeable - that holds our sweet waters, our secret well of happiness, the key to our equanimity in malevolent climes.”

― Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker

#tom robbins #still life with woodpecker