Genesis — Anyway
..All the pumping’s nearly over for my sweetheart,
This is the one for me,
Time to meet the chef,
O boy, the running man is out of death.
Feel cold and old, it’s getting hard to catch my breath.
It‘s back to ash! Now, you’ve had your flash, boy;
The rocks, in time, compress
Your blood to oil,
Your flesh to coal;
Enrich the soil,
Not everybody’s gold.
Anyway, they say she comes on a pale horse,
But I’m sure I hear a train.
O boy! I don’t even feel no pain;
I guess I must be driving myself insane.
Damn it all! Does earth plug a hole in heaven,
Or heaven plug a hole in earth?
How wonderful to be so profound,
When everything you are is dying underground.
as I near 70, I get letters, cards, little gifts from strange people. congratulations, they tell me, congratulations I know what they mean: the way I have lived I should have been dead in half that time I have piled myself with a mass of grand abuse, been careless toward myself almost to the point of madness, I am still here leaning towards this machine in this smoke-filled room, this large blue trashcan to my left full of empty containers the doctors have no answers and the gods are silent congratulations, death, on your patience. I have helped you all that I can now one more poem and a walk out on the balcony, such a fine night there I am dressed in shorts and stockings, gently scratch my old belly, look out there look off there where dark meets dark it's been one hell of a crazy ballgame
Third Lung Review Vol. 8. 1992.
Stevie Nicks — Gypsy (a capella-ish)
Homeless Man in SF Mission District… - Imgur
(20th Street, it appears)
Hands of Jean Cocteau | Berenice Abbott
John Fahey | Sunflower River Blues