Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Three Hits

Got this song in my head tonight (three hits to the heart, son, and it's poetry in motion...Rites of Passage, Indigo Girls...maybe it's just nostalgia but even with the over-produced-early-nineties-sorta-cheesy-pop quality, I still admire so much about this album, its rich feminine language, sweet melodies, honesty, radical political poetry, and love...) which led me to the liner, for the lyrics, where I found this one is "dedicated to the memory of a great poet, Frank Stanford". And then, and now, these lovely words, compliments of Wikipedia, from me to you, dear friends:

Death In The Cool Evening

I move
Like the deer in the forest
I see you before you
See me
We are like the moist rose
Which opens alone
When I'm dreaming
I linger by the pool of many seasons
Suddenly it is night
Time passes like the shadows
That were not
There when you lifted your head
Dreams leave their hind tracks
Something red and warm to go by
So it is the hunters of this world
Close in.

Frank Stanford, ©1974

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