| My heart became a drunken runt
|
| On the day I sunk in this shunt
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| To tap me clean
|
| Of all the wonder
|
| And the sorrow I have seen
|
| Since I left my home:
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| My home, on the old Milk Lake
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| Where the darkness does fall so fast
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| It feels like some kind of mistake
|
| (just like they told you it would;
|
| Just like the Tulgeywood)
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| When I came into my land
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| I did not understand:
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| Neither dry rot, nor the burn pile
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| Nor the bark-beetle, nor the dry well
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| Nor the black bear
|
| But there is another
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| Who is a little older
|
| When I broke my bone
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| He carried me up from the riverside
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| To spend my life
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| 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
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| 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.) |