Friday, March 14, 2014

She Sleeps Upstairs Like Mystery in a Story

Yes, today's the 14th, the 15th songs a day early. Dinner and excellent family time last night with Planet and Earthgirl and Hamster and Landru and absolutely no digital surfing after, so no links today. Did want to say that we are one week away from the Holiest Day in Egoslavia, hence the next week of poems. Oh, there's a Wire cascade in your future too, fell asleep last night listening to Pink Flag, it's love all over again. One of their songs has been Theme Song of the Month at this shitty blog more than any other, and will be again tomorrow.


James P Lenfestey

A daughter is not a passing cloud, but permanent,   
holding earth and sky together with her shadow.   
She sleeps upstairs like mystery in a story,   
blowing leaves down the stairs, then cold air, then warm.   
We who at sixty should know everything, know nothing.   
We become dull and disoriented by uncertain weather.   
We kneel, palms together, before this blossoming altar.



  1. Replies
    1. Yeah, I've seen the news. I don't know as much about him as I should, though everyone seems to be lining up in the respective pro and anti positions anyone could predict (which sadly tells me I probably know as much as I need to know).