goons are as you are as you are as goons, and goons are as we are as we are as goons, goons are as you are as we are as you are as goons are as you are and we are as you are and you are as goons
ok i know you've been on that bloodborne thing for a while, but the matrix is a lot more anime than most movie things, not least because there are matrix animes
I'm not sure what your point is. Are you denying that there's an aesthetic that's common in goons? When you bring up criticisms, is it not in reference to things you dislike? This is my starting point: goons have an aesthetic. Yes, #notallgoons, but by and large, there is a collection of beliefs, ideas, opinions and ways of speaking that are common to the population. I don't dig those beliefs, ideas, opinions and ways of speaking I don't think it looks cool, or sounds cool, I don't respond to the idiosyncracies. They're annoying to me, or, if you'd like, they're silly in a way I dislike. But I'm not sure if you're saying the aesthetic isn't there (which I disagree with) or you're saying you shouldn't dislike an aesthetic (which I also disagree with). Yes, I can scour the world of goons for exceptions but why would I? I know they exist, they land on my door step sometimes, but life is too short to swim upstream for people. There's people everywhere.
ok i know you've been on that bloodborne thing for a while, but the matrix is a lot more anime than most movie things, not least because there are matrix animes
You are not a critic, and thus, are not allowed to have an opinion about what is and isn't anime.
I'm not sure what your point is. Are you denying that there's an aesthetic that's common in goons? When you bring up criticisms, is it not in reference to things you dislike? This is my starting point: goons have an aesthetic. Yes, #notallgoons, but by and large, there is a collection of beliefs, ideas, opinions and ways of speaking that are common to the population. I don't dig those beliefs, ideas, opinions and ways of speaking I don't think it looks cool, or sounds cool, I don't respond to the idiosyncracies. They're annoying to me, or, if you'd like, they're silly in a way I dislike. But I'm not sure if you're saying the aesthetic isn't there (which I disagree with) or you're saying you shouldn't dislike an aesthetic (which I also disagree with). Yes, I can scour the world of goons for exceptions but why would I? I know they exist, they land on my door step sometimes, but life is too short to swim upstream for people. There's people everywhere.
I'm not sure what your point is. Are you denying that there's an aesthetic that's common in goons? When you bring up criticisms, is it not in reference to things you dislike? This is my starting point: goons have an aesthetic. Yes, #notallgoons, but by and large, there is a collection of beliefs, ideas, opinions and ways of speaking that are common to the population. I don't dig those beliefs, ideas, opinions and ways of speaking I don't think it looks cool, or sounds cool, I don't respond to the idiosyncracies. They're annoying to me, or, if you'd like, they're silly in a way I dislike. But I'm not sure if you're saying the aesthetic isn't there (which I disagree with) or you're saying you shouldn't dislike an aesthetic (which I also disagree with). Yes, I can scour the world of goons for exceptions but why would I? I know they exist, they land on my door step sometimes, but life is too short to swim upstream for people. There's people everywhere.
No. The reason this pattern is happening is because CN has a handful of "marquee shows" it rotates in and out of emphasis (SU is one, Adventure Time is another). It's out of emphasis right now. They do this primarily so the crew doesn't run out of episodes. Which with the bomb format, is a real concern.
Do none of you know how TV networks operate? Like I'm sorry to take on a high and mighty tone but TV execs do not give a single shit if something is contrary to what they'd personally want to see in a show. Many of them don't even watch the networks they work for. They care about making money.
Let me tell you what happens when Cartoon Network wants to kill a show, they shunt it to the early morning death slot and don't tell anybody. That happened to The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack. Great show! Terrible ratings, and they couldn't outright cancel it, so they put it in a place where no one would see it.
Steven Universe has been--as has been repeated constantly over the course of this hiatus--renewed for another season after the one we're currently in, and on top of that, they've recently started making toys. Toys don't get made after production starts unless a show is a runaway hit, which SU is.
And again like I'm sorry to be so visibly exasperated but I feel like this question gets asked constantly in this fandom--here, on tumblr, on twitter, and so on (and personally, having to deal with this in the Toonami fandom as well. Shit's been back for four years and people still think it's gonna get canceled tomorrow)--and just, the answer is no, has always been no, and will continue to be no for the forseeable future. Something catastrophic would have to happen for Steven Universe to get cancelled. Boston Bomb Scare catastrophic.
ok i know you've been on that bloodborne thing for a while, but the matrix is a lot more anime than most movie things, not least because there are matrix animes
You are not a critic, and thus, are not allowed to have an opinion about what is and isn't anime.
And there was a booming above you That night black airplanes flew over the sea And they were lowing and shifting like Beached whales Shelled snails As you strained and you squinted to see The retreat of their hairless and blind cavalry
You froze in your sand shoal Prayed for your poor soul; Sky seemed a bread roll, soaking in a milk-bowl
And when the bread broke — Fell in bricks of wet smoke — My sleeping heart woke, and my waking heart spoke
Then there was a silence you took to mean something: Mean, Run, sing For alive you will evermore be And the plague of the greasy black engines a-skulking Has gone east While you’re left to explain them to me — Released From their hairless and blind cavalry
With your hands in your pockets Stubbily running To where I’m unfresh Undressed and yawning —
Well, what is this craziness? This crazy talking? You caught some small death When you were sleepwalking
It was a dark dream, darlin; It’s over The firebreather is beneath the clover Beneath his breathing there is cold clay, forever: A toothless hound-dog choking on a feather
But I took my fishing pole (fearing your fever) Down to the swimming hole, where there grows a bitter herb That blooms but one day a year, by the riverside — I’d bring it here:
Apply it gently To the love you’ve lent me
While the river was twisting and braiding, the bait bobbed And the string sobbed As it cut through the hustling breeze
And I watched how the water was kneading so neatly Gone treacly Nearly slowed to a stop in this heat; Frenzy coiling flush along the muscles beneath
Press on me We are restless things Webs of seaweed are swaddling You call upon the dusk of the Musk of a squid: Shot full of ink, until you sink into your crib
Rowing along, among the reeds, among the rushes I heard your song, before my heart had time to hush it! Smell of a stonefruit being cut and being opened Smell of a low and of a lazy cinder smoking
And when the fire moves away Fire moves away, son Why would you say I was the last one?
Scrape your knee: it is only skin Makes the sound of violins
When I cut your hair, and leave the birds all the trimmings I am the happiest woman among all women
And the shallow water stretches as far as I can see Knee deep, trudging along — The seagull weeps ‘so long’ — I’m humming a threshing song —
Until the night is over, hold on Hold on; Hold your horses back from the fickle dawn
I have got some business out at the edge of town Candy weighing both of my pockets down Till I can hardly stay afloat, from the weight of them (and knowing how the commonfolk condemn What it is I do, to you, to keep you warm: Being a woman. Being a woman.)
But always up the mountainside you’re clambering Groping blindly, hungry for anything; Picking through your pocket linings — Well, what is this? Scrap of sassafras, eh Sisyphus?
I see the blossoms broke and wet after the rain Little sister, he will be back again I have washed a thousand spiders down the drain Spiders’ ghosts hang, soaked and Dangling silently, from all the blooming cherry trees In tiny nooses, safe from everyone — Nothing but a nuisance; gone now, dead and done — Be a woman. Be a woman
Though we felt the spray of the waves We decided to stay, 'till the tide rose too far We weren’t afraid, cause we know what you are; And you know that we know what you are
Awful atoll — O, incalculable indiscreetness and sorrow! Bawl bellow: Sibyl sea-cow, all done up in a bow Toddle and roll; Teethe an impalpable bit of leather While yarrow, heather and hollyhock Awkwardly molt along the shore
Are you mine? My heart? Mine anymore?
Stay with me for awhile That’s an awfully real gun I know life will lay you down As the lightning has lately done
Failing this, failing this Follow me, my sweetest friend To see what you anointed In pointing your gun there Lay it down! Nice and slow! There is nowhere to go
Save up; Up where the light, undiluted, is Weaving, in a drunk dream At the sight of my baby, out back:
Back on the patio Watching the bats bring night in
— while, elsewhere Estuaries of wax-white Wend, endlessly, towards seashores unmapped
Last week, our picture window Produced a half-word Heavy and hollow Hit by a brown bird
We stood and watched her gape like a rattlesnake And pant and labor over every intake
I said a sort of prayer for some rare grace Then thought I ought to take her to a higher place Said, “dog nor vulture nor cat shall toy with you And though you die, bird, you will have a fine view.”
Then in my hot hand, she slumped her sick weight We tramped through the poison oak, heartbroke and inchoate The dogs were snapping, so you cuffed their collars While I climbed the tree-house. Then how I hollered!
Cause she’d lain, as still as a stone, in my palm, for a lifetime or two; Then saw the treetops, cocked her head, and up and flew (While back in the world that moves, often, according to The hoarding of these clues Dogs still run roughly around Little tufts of finch-down
The cities we passed were a flickering wasteland, But his hand, in my hand, made them hale and harmless
While down in the lowlands, the crops are all coming; We have everything
Life is thundering blissful towards death
In a stampede Of his fumbling green gentleness
You stopped by; I was all alive In my doorway, we shucked and jived And when you wept, I was gone; See, I got gone when I got wise But I can’t with certainty say we survived
Then down and down And down and down And down and deeper Stoke, without sound The blameless flames You endless sleeper
Through fire below And fire above And fire within
Sleep through the things that couldn’t have been If you hadn’t have been
And when the fire moves away Fire moves away, son Why would you say I was the last one?
All my bones, they are gone, gone, gone Take my bones, I don’t need none Cold, cold cupboard, lord, nothing to chew on! Suck all day on a cherry stone Dig a little hole not three inches round — Spit your pit in a hole in the ground Weep upon the spot for the starving of me! Till up grows a fine young cherry tree When the bough breaks, what’ll you make for me? A little willow cabin to rest on your knee What’ll I do with a trinket such as this? Think of your woman, who’s gone to the west But I’m starving and freezing in my measly old bed! Then I’ll crawl across the salt flats, to stroke your sweet head Come across the desert with no shoes on! I love you truly Or I love no-one
Fire moves away. Fire moves away, son Why would you say that I was the last one, last one?
Clear the room! There’s a fire, a fire, a fire Get going And I’m going to be right behind you
And if the love of a woman or two, dear Couldn't move you to such heights Then all I can do Is do, my darling, right by you
That's because you're drawing up this dichotomy where you have to either "admit the line is bad even if you like it" or you're a 'stan'. You can't say "you can like bad lines", that's meaningless.
This kind of phrasing makes it impossible to talk about the album in any interesting way and is why I've largely been staying out of these threads until now.
too few symbols to reasonably be language (unless they're a pictographic one like Egyptian hieroglyphics but, while I think Hirsch is a pretty smart dude, that's not something most people can pull off).
The meadowlark and the chim-choo-ree and the sparrow Set to the sky in a flying spree, for the sport over the pharaoh A little while later the Pharisees dragged a comb through the meadow Do you remember what they called up to you and me, in our window? There is a rusty light on the pines tonight Sun pouring wine, lord, or marrow Down into the bones of the birches And the spires of the churches Jutting out from the shadows The yoke, and the axe, and the old smokestacks and the bale and the barrow And everything sloped like it was dragged from a rope In the mouth of the south below We've seen those mountains kneeling, felten and grey We thought our very hearts would up and melt away From that snow in the nighttime Just going And going And the stirring of wind chimes In the morning In the morning Helps me find my way back in From the place where I have been And, Emily - I saw you last night by the river I dreamed you were skipping little stones across the surface of the water Frowning at the angle where they were lost, and slipped under forever In a mud-cloud, mica-spangled, like the sky'd been breathing on a mirror Anyhow - I sat by your side, by the water You taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger Though all I knew of the rote universe were those Pleiades loosed in December I promised you I'd set them to verse so I'd always remember
That the meteorite is a source of the light And the meteor's just what we see And the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee
And the meteorite’s just what causes the light And the meteor’s how it’s perceived And the meteoroid’s a bone thrown from the void That lies quiet and offering to thee
You came and lay a cold compress upon the mess I'm in Threw the window wide and cried, "Amen! Amen! Amen!" The whole world stopped to hear you hollering You looked down and saw now what was happening The lines are fading in my kingdom (Though I have never known the way to border them in) So the muddy mouths of baboons and sows and the grouse and the horse and the hen Grope at the gate of the looming lake that was once a tidy pen And the mail is late and the great estates are not lit from within The talk in town's becoming downright sickening In due time we will see the far buttes lit by a flare I've seen your bravery, and I will follow you there And row through the nighttime Gone healthy Gone healthy all of a sudden In search of the midwife Who could help me Who could help me Help me find my way back in There are worries where I've been Say, say, say in the lee of the bay; don't be bothered Leave your troubles here where the tugboats shear the water from the water (Flanked by furrows, curling back, like a match held up to a newspaper) Emily, they'll follow your lead by the letter And I make this claim, and I'm not ashamed to say I know you better What they've seen is just a beam of your sun that banishes winter Let us go! Though we know it's a hopeless endeavor The ties that bind, they are barbed and spined and hold us close forever Though there is nothing would help me come to grips with a sky that is gaping and yawning There is a song I woke with on my lips as you sailed your great ship towards the morning Come on home, the poppies are all grown knee-deep by now Blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow Peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow With hydrocephalitic listlessness ants mop up-a their brow And everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour The butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours And my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines Come on home, now! All my bones are dolorous with vines Pa pointed out to me, for the hundredth time tonight The way the ladle leads to a dirt-red bullet of light Squint skyward and listen Loving him, we move within his borders Just asterisms in the stars' set order We could stand for a century Staring With our heads cocked In the broad daylight at this thing Joy Landlocked In bodies that don't keep Dumbstruck with the sweetness of being Until we don't be told Take this Eat this Told
no if you're wanting something this sub would actually say about Illmatic you want someone saying that it has no bangers, and then a lengthy argument about whether "Represent" qualifies as a banger or not.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
I've never actually had a nice laptop, you know.
I've never had a laptop with an SSD, or a touchscreen, or even a 1080p display. I've never had a nice sleek laptop that's not obnoxiously thick. I've never had an Apple laptop.
I've never had a laptop with an SSD, or a touchscreen, or even a 1080p display. I've never had a nice sleek laptop that's not obnoxiously thick. I've never had an Apple laptop.
I've never had a laptop with an SSD, or a touchscreen, or even a 1080p display. I've never had a nice sleek laptop that's not obnoxiously thick. I've never had an Apple laptop.
Just sayin'.
I don't have running water in my kitchen.
I'm sorry your life sucks, but getting into a "whose life is worse" game never benefits anyone.
Myr, you're kinda doing that thing where you go on and on about a subject which may very well hold dubious opinions, but even when people agree with its badness and/or don't care, continue going on even though the point has been made.
I'm sorry this is such a needle in your side, and yeah I can easily see how it's dumb as well as how that sentiment creeping up on stuff you like is infuriating, but can you please stop? Or try to be less intense about it?
I've never had a laptop with an SSD, or a touchscreen, or even a 1080p display. I've never had a nice sleek laptop that's not obnoxiously thick. I've never had an Apple laptop.
I've never had a laptop with an SSD, or a touchscreen, or even a 1080p display. I've never had a nice sleek laptop that's not obnoxiously thick. I've never had an Apple laptop.
Just sayin'.
I don't have running water in my kitchen.
I'm sorry your life sucks, but getting into a "whose life is worse" game never benefits anyone.
Myr, you're kinda doing that thing where you go on and on about a subject which may very well hold dubious opinions, but even when people agree with its badness and/or don't care, continue going on even though the point has been made.
I'm sorry this is such a needle in your side, and yeah I can easily see how it's dumb as well as how that sentiment creeping up on stuff you like is infuriating, but can you please stop? Or try to be less intense about it?
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
I've never had a laptop with an SSD, or a touchscreen, or even a 1080p display. I've never had a nice sleek laptop that's not obnoxiously thick. I've never had an Apple laptop.
Just sayin'.
you can buy an SSD, it's like 100 bucks
I've considered that, but at this point this laptop is 3 years old and I'm not sure it has enough live left in it to be worth spending money on upgrades.
Comments
squids i bet
your dumb
This is my starting point: goons have an aesthetic. Yes, #notallgoons, but by and large, there is a collection of beliefs, ideas, opinions and ways of speaking that are common to the population. I don't dig those beliefs, ideas, opinions and ways of speaking I don't think it looks cool, or sounds cool, I don't respond to the idiosyncracies. They're annoying to me, or, if you'd like, they're silly in a way I dislike.
But I'm not sure if you're saying the aesthetic isn't there (which I disagree with) or you're saying you shouldn't dislike an aesthetic (which I also disagree with). Yes, I can scour the world of goons for exceptions but why would I? I know they exist, they land on my door step sometimes, but life is too short to swim upstream for people. There's people everywhere.
Do none of you know how TV networks operate? Like I'm sorry to take on a high and mighty tone but TV execs do not give a single shit if something is contrary to what they'd personally want to see in a show. Many of them don't even watch the networks they work for. They care about making money.
Steven Universe has been--as has been repeated constantly over the course of this hiatus--renewed for another season after the one we're currently in, and on top of that, they've recently started making toys. Toys don't get made after production starts unless a show is a runaway hit, which SU is.
That night black airplanes flew over the sea
And they were lowing and shifting like
Beached whales
Shelled snails
As you strained and you squinted to see
The retreat of their hairless and blind cavalry
You froze in your sand shoal
Prayed for your poor soul;
Sky seemed a bread roll, soaking in a milk-bowl
And when the bread broke —
Fell in bricks of wet smoke —
My sleeping heart woke, and my waking heart spoke
Then there was a silence you took to mean something:
Mean, Run, sing
For alive you will evermore be
And the plague of the greasy black engines a-skulking
Has gone east
While you’re left to explain them to me —
Released
From their hairless and blind cavalry
With your hands in your pockets
Stubbily running
To where I’m unfresh
Undressed and yawning —
Well, what is this craziness?
This crazy talking?
You caught some small death
When you were sleepwalking
It was a dark dream, darlin;
It’s over
The firebreather is beneath the clover
Beneath his breathing there is cold clay, forever:
A toothless hound-dog choking on a feather
But I took my fishing pole (fearing your fever)
Down to the swimming hole, where there grows a bitter herb
That blooms but one day a year, by the riverside —
I’d bring it here:
Apply it gently
To the love you’ve lent me
While the river was twisting and braiding, the bait bobbed
And the string sobbed
As it cut through the hustling breeze
And I watched how the water was kneading so neatly
Gone treacly
Nearly slowed to a stop in this heat;
Frenzy coiling flush along the muscles beneath
Press on me
We are restless things
Webs of seaweed are swaddling
You call upon the dusk of the
Musk of a squid:
Shot full of ink, until you sink into your crib
Rowing along, among the reeds, among the rushes
I heard your song, before my heart had time to hush it!
Smell of a stonefruit being cut and being opened
Smell of a low and of a lazy cinder smoking
And when the fire moves away
Fire moves away, son
Why would you say
I was the last one?
Scrape your knee: it is only skin
Makes the sound of violins
When I cut your hair, and leave the birds all the trimmings
I am the happiest woman among all women
And the shallow water stretches as far as I can see
Knee deep, trudging along —
The seagull weeps ‘so long’ —
I’m humming a threshing song —
Until the night is over, hold on
Hold on;
Hold your horses back from the fickle dawn
I have got some business out at the edge of town
Candy weighing both of my pockets down
Till I can hardly stay afloat, from the weight of them
(and knowing how the commonfolk condemn
What it is I do, to you, to keep you warm:
Being a woman. Being a woman.)
But always up the mountainside you’re clambering
Groping blindly, hungry for anything;
Picking through your pocket linings —
Well, what is this?
Scrap of sassafras, eh Sisyphus?
I see the blossoms broke and wet after the rain
Little sister, he will be back again
I have washed a thousand spiders down the drain
Spiders’ ghosts hang, soaked and
Dangling silently, from all the blooming cherry trees
In tiny nooses, safe from everyone —
Nothing but a nuisance; gone now, dead and done —
Be a woman. Be a woman
Though we felt the spray of the waves
We decided to stay, 'till the tide rose too far
We weren’t afraid, cause we know what you are;
And you know that we know what you are
Awful atoll —
O, incalculable indiscreetness and sorrow!
Bawl bellow:
Sibyl sea-cow, all done up in a bow
Toddle and roll;
Teethe an impalpable bit of leather
While yarrow, heather and hollyhock
Awkwardly molt along the shore
Are you mine?
My heart?
Mine anymore?
Stay with me for awhile
That’s an awfully real gun
I know life will lay you down
As the lightning has lately done
Failing this, failing this
Follow me, my sweetest friend
To see what you anointed
In pointing your gun there
Lay it down! Nice and slow!
There is nowhere to go
Save up;
Up where the light, undiluted, is
Weaving, in a drunk dream
At the sight of my baby, out back:
Back on the patio
Watching the bats bring night in
— while, elsewhere
Estuaries of wax-white
Wend, endlessly, towards seashores unmapped
Last week, our picture window
Produced a half-word
Heavy and hollow
Hit by a brown bird
We stood and watched her gape like a rattlesnake
And pant and labor over every intake
I said a sort of prayer for some rare grace
Then thought I ought to take her to a higher place
Said, “dog nor vulture nor cat shall toy with you
And though you die, bird, you will have a fine view.”
Then in my hot hand, she slumped her sick weight
We tramped through the poison oak, heartbroke and inchoate
The dogs were snapping, so you cuffed their collars
While I climbed the tree-house. Then how I hollered!
Cause she’d lain, as still as a stone, in my palm, for a lifetime or two;
Then saw the treetops, cocked her head, and up and flew
(While back in the world that moves, often, according to
The hoarding of these clues
Dogs still run roughly around
Little tufts of finch-down
The cities we passed were a flickering wasteland,
But his hand, in my hand, made them hale and harmless
While down in the lowlands, the crops are all coming;
We have everything
Life is thundering blissful towards death
In a stampede
Of his fumbling green gentleness
You stopped by;
I was all alive
In my doorway, we shucked and jived
And when you wept, I was gone;
See, I got gone when I got wise
But I can’t with certainty say we survived
Then down and down
And down and down
And down and deeper
Stoke, without sound
The blameless flames
You endless sleeper
Through fire below
And fire above
And fire within
Sleep through the things that couldn’t have been
If you hadn’t have been
And when the fire moves away
Fire moves away, son
Why would you say
I was the last one?
All my bones, they are gone, gone, gone
Take my bones, I don’t need none
Cold, cold cupboard, lord, nothing to chew on!
Suck all day on a cherry stone
Dig a little hole not three inches round —
Spit your pit in a hole in the ground
Weep upon the spot for the starving of me!
Till up grows a fine young cherry tree
When the bough breaks, what’ll you make for me?
A little willow cabin to rest on your knee
What’ll I do with a trinket such as this?
Think of your woman, who’s gone to the west
But I’m starving and freezing in my measly old bed!
Then I’ll crawl across the salt flats, to stroke your sweet head
Come across the desert with no shoes on!
I love you truly
Or I love no-one
Fire moves away. Fire moves away, son
Why would you say that I was the last one, last one?
Clear the room! There’s a fire, a fire, a fire
Get going
And I’m going to be right behind you
And if the love of a woman or two, dear
Couldn't move you to such heights
Then all I can do
Is do, my darling, right by you
This kind of phrasing makes it impossible to talk about the album in any interesting way and is why I've largely been staying out of these threads until now.
edit: finally listened to the track & it's pretty good. Yours not his.
I just really needed to give my important thoughts about the cucumber pic.
you may say i'm a fool / feelin the way that i do
So it's probably numbers.
Set to the sky in a flying spree, for the sport over the pharaoh
A little while later the Pharisees dragged a comb through the meadow
Do you remember what they called up to you and me, in our window?
There is a rusty light on the pines tonight
Sun pouring wine, lord, or marrow
Down into the bones of the birches
And the spires of the churches
Jutting out from the shadows
The yoke, and the axe, and the old smokestacks and the bale and the barrow
And everything sloped like it was dragged from a rope
In the mouth of the south below
We've seen those mountains kneeling, felten and grey
We thought our very hearts would up and melt away
From that snow in the nighttime
Just going
And going
And the stirring of wind chimes
In the morning
In the morning
Helps me find my way back in
From the place where I have been
And, Emily - I saw you last night by the river
I dreamed you were skipping little stones across the surface of the water
Frowning at the angle where they were lost, and slipped under forever
In a mud-cloud, mica-spangled, like the sky'd been breathing on a mirror
Anyhow - I sat by your side, by the water
You taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger
Though all I knew of the rote universe were those Pleiades loosed in December
I promised you I'd set them to verse so I'd always remember
That the meteorite is a source of the light
And the meteor's just what we see
And the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee
And the meteorite’s just what causes the light
And the meteor’s how it’s perceived
And the meteoroid’s a bone thrown from the void
That lies quiet and offering to thee
You came and lay a cold compress upon the mess I'm in
Threw the window wide and cried, "Amen! Amen! Amen!"
The whole world stopped to hear you hollering
You looked down and saw now what was happening
The lines are fading in my kingdom
(Though I have never known the way to border them in)
So the muddy mouths of baboons and sows and the grouse and the horse and the hen
Grope at the gate of the looming lake that was once a tidy pen
And the mail is late and the great estates are not lit from within
The talk in town's becoming downright sickening
In due time we will see the far buttes lit by a flare
I've seen your bravery, and I will follow you there
And row through the nighttime
Gone healthy
Gone healthy all of a sudden
In search of the midwife
Who could help me
Who could help me
Help me find my way back in
There are worries where I've been
Say, say, say in the lee of the bay; don't be bothered
Leave your troubles here where the tugboats shear the water from the water
(Flanked by furrows, curling back, like a match held up to a newspaper)
Emily, they'll follow your lead by the letter
And I make this claim, and I'm not ashamed to say I know you better
What they've seen is just a beam of your sun that banishes winter
Let us go! Though we know it's a hopeless endeavor
The ties that bind, they are barbed and spined and hold us close forever
Though there is nothing would help me come to grips with a sky that is gaping and yawning
There is a song I woke with on my lips as you sailed your great ship towards the morning
Come on home, the poppies are all grown knee-deep by now
Blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow
Peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow
With hydrocephalitic listlessness ants mop up-a their brow
And everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour
The butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours
And my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines
Come on home, now! All my bones are dolorous with vines
Pa pointed out to me, for the hundredth time tonight
The way the ladle leads to a dirt-red bullet of light
Squint skyward and listen
Loving him, we move within his borders
Just asterisms in the stars' set order
We could stand for a century
Staring
With our heads cocked
In the broad daylight at this thing
Joy
Landlocked
In bodies that don't keep
Dumbstruck with the sweetness of being
Until we don't be told
Take this
Eat this
Told
I am inclined to agree with it, except the fact that apparently enough episodes have been made as to spoil them is kinda making me antsy...