Pursued BluesThe speed limit here is fifty,but I'm doing a hundred and ten.If my luck holds out till morning,I might make it home again.I've been moving since Octoberand they haven't got me yet.I keep my eyes wide openfor every trap they set.Sometimes I say a prayer to heavenfor the damage all around.There is justice high above us,but who can call it down?The speed limit here is fifty,but I'm doing a hundred and ten.If my luck holds out till morning,I might make it home again.If I do get home tomorrow,I will not be there long.I'll put my arms around my people,and then I will be gone.But it's not so much the staying,as knowing home is there.Not so much the staying,as hoping home is there.
You see the way we sitYou see the way we sit and how we leantoward one another, then sit back again.We sip our coffee, say, "You should try this,"and lift our forks to one another's lips.Do talk and easy silence make it seemthere is no tension left to make us onewith all the heat and sweetness one might dreamor drive us far apart if it becometoo taut and snap? Perhaps you tell yourselfthat all is settled and no questions leftwhen two have been together for so long?It is not that there are no questions left.We ask them often, more than you would guess,we ask them every day - and answer yes.
In FlightA. pays the seven dollars for a beer,the flight attendant takes his twentyand says that she will bring change shortly.He pops the top and pours the beer with care,waits for the foam to go. With seatbelt tightand armrest lost to someone on his right,he can barely move. He is snug as his sonin a denim carrier on his chest all thoseyears ago, and as content. He is safelyout of touch, can do nothing for anyone,nor be asked to. He can lift his plastic cup.He can sip beer through the remaining foam.He can lower the cup. He can do no more,so lets himself feel no more need be done.Alone a while, and glad to be alone -A. was away, and now is coming home.
Let there beLet there be silence. Let the senator riseand open his mouth to tell his liesand nothing come out. Let the senator sit.Let there be silence. Let the red light glowto begin the lies on the TV showand nothing be heard. Let the light go out.Let there be silence. Let the old men beginto tell their old lies over againand there be no sound. Let the old men stop.Let there be silence. Let the ears forgetthe sound of all that the liars said,the drawl and bark. Let the ears rest.
My Blue ChildI let you go now, my blue child.Fly away, I make you wings of memory and pain.The wings that offered healing once would not come again.Your pain is now complete, your pain is past.Our pain is torn and tearing, our pain will last.I played a counting game upon your back when we were small.Then I had your wounds to count. I could not count them all.A prince come from a star, with golden hair;I took you to my heart, I held you there.You were my own, and every threat to you made me fierce.Now I must be, yet cannot be, fierce enough for this -to let you go now, my blue child
High Wind BluesA high wind is blowing,there are donkeys in the trees.At least it isn't winter -those poor animals would freeze.A high wind is blowing,there are badgers in the air. They're blowing by like bluebirds,their teeth and claws are bare.A high wind is blowing,and the river's turned around.It stopped heading for the ocean,it's rolling backwards into town.A high wind is blowing,it smells like steel and stone. I taste it in my coffee,sitting home alone.You know there is no reasonfor this wind to be so high.And no way to stop it blowing -there's nothing we can try.A high wind is blowing,it tore the roof right off the house.But the walls, they still are standing,and I'm sure not going out.
RememberRecall reflections, rippled watersnow bone-bare dirt and sundried sand.Remember yellows, blues and redswhose silken surface softly skimmedcool water, beneathe trembling hands.Rethink the way your waters run;flow with yourself, your soul, your skin.Renew that day you fell in lovewith something better than you'd known,tango with rain, waltz with the wind.Remember now, as you did then;you nevereverneeded him.
w h i s p e r Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say, Like little children sleeping, we can dream this night away. [paint splatters covering the walls] [shattered china tea cups]
Stolen momentsSing me a tender song, my loveAnd let it show upon your faceLet your tongue caress the wordsSo I may share the thing you taste.Recite me a pretty poem, my loveWring deep emotion from my tearsLet the words be for me aloneThat I may carry through all the years.Tell me of your love, my loveAs fingers trace upon my cheekYour silken skin brushes my ownTogether we will pleasure seek.Whisper your desire, my loveMy body awaits your commandTo serve your final heady sighSo soft, like whispering sand.Lie naked with me now, my loveAnd I'll teach you many thingsPain and pleasure of the fleshAll the sweetness that it brings.But I will pay you now, my whoreFor you have given me brief pleasureBut shall I ever find the oneI may respect with love for ever!