. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
With a burning candle
A book of holy things
They'll throw you up against the wall
Bind your hands with string
Caught in the sudden shower
Our host of heavenly Kings
They're all victims of circumstance
Of ancient bells that bring
All the fear in the world, naked and shy
Down upon our heads, with no reason why
And though voices may holler
For all they're worth
The rabbits have fled their burrows
Gone to earth
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
With a burning candle
A book of holy things
They'll throw you up against the wall
Bind your hands with string
Caught in the sudden shower
Our host of heavenly Kings
They're all victims of circumstance
Of ancient bells that bring
All the fear in the world, naked and shy
Down upon our heads, with no reason why
And though voices may holler
For all they're worth
The rabbits have fled their burrows
Gone to earth
. . .
|
Camp Fire: Coyote Country (Remix) |
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
Where the Railroad Meets the Sea |
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
Silver Moon Over Sleeping Steeples |
|
. . .
|
Camp Fire: Coyote Country |
|
. . .
|
A Bird of Prey Vanishes Into a Bright Blue Cloudless Sky |
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
Sunlight Seen Through Towering Trees |
|
. . .
|
|
Looking by chance in at the open window
I saw my own self seated in his chair
With gaze abstracted, furrowed forehead,
Unkempt hair.
I thought that I had suddenly come to die,
That to a cold corpse this was my farewell,
Until the pen moved slowly upon paper
And tears fell.
He had written a name, yours, in printed letters:
One word on which bemusedly to pore
No protest, no desire, your naked name,
Nothing more.
Would it be tomorrow, would it be next year?
But the vision was not false, this much I knew;
And I turned angrily from the open window
Aghast at you.
Why never a warning, either by speech or look,
That the love you cruelly gave me could not last?
Already it was too late: the bait swallowed,
The hook fast
. . .
|
Switch to English 
