A friend posted Patti Smith's nobel prize performance of Dylan's A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall, and I just can't get enough of it. If you haven't seen it, it's a must watch.
As a result, I've been singing that song all day, including out loud on my bike ride to and from work. But I already blogged about that masterpiece, so here's another fine Dylan number to mark this day:
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Though I know that evenings empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship
My senses have been stripped
May hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wandering
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade
Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Though you might hear laughing, spinning, swinging madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone
It's just a escaping on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facing
And if you hear vague traces of skipping reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time
It's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind
It's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy bench
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory of fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
What a poet indeed. So glad the Nobel prize people feel the same way!
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Monday, December 12, 2016
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Unpack Your Heart
Ah, the human heart. I taught a yoga class about this incredible vessel yesterday, which seems a bit funny, since I can't even begin to understand it.
I've been listening lately to the CDs that my first love has made me over the years, and I realized something: the only song that he ever repeated from one disc to the next (decades passed between some of them) was the song Hurt.
Sometimes it just feels like there's so much hurt in this life. It's everywhere you look. And even the most magical feelings of love often get replaced by hurt. I say often because I know, not from my own life, but from the examples of others, that it is possible to love someone as much as I let myself love the New Englander and have it turn it very differently than that relationship turned out.
I was talking today to a bodyworker who advised me that now probably isn't the time to date, but when people start asking, to just stay really hypervigilant that I don't once again take elements of a person and a relationship and create a projection -- even if it's a really fucking beautiful projection -- of the partner and the love I am seeking. Because ultimately, that's what I did with the New Englander, because originally, that's what I did with my father.
Tricky business, this heart stuff. Luckily, like all hard things about being human, the difficulty and complexity of our hearts can be mitigated with poetry and music.
I'm going to start with the poetry. This poem is called Heart. It is from an episode of the New Yorker this summer, and it was written by Sue Song. I first read it when I was out in Portland in August, and it has come to symbolize for me the universality of the difficulty that two human beings so often have with loving one another:
When removed, I know
you will be more mahogany
than vermillion. The mass
of you less than one pound—
fisted fibre of muscle, language
of tremor under the breastbone
quieted.
Sorry for blaming you.
Too many nights I felt you
transform to the heaviest alloy
and demand to be carried,
rite of my fidelity to you.
Then, on whim, you’d dissolve
quick as mercury,
rise to cast my throat,
cause an allergy of tears.
I hated your cadence, betraying
me. Contraction and beat,
stenograph of your honesty
when my lips were complicit.
I understand you are sensitive.
Forgive those years I left you
pounding your Morse of grief, alone—
knocking against my sternum,
wondering if I was even there.
Wow.
And finally, from the speakers in the locker room this morning came this song -- a new one to me -- and it seemed hopeful:
Meet me where the sunlight ends
Meet me where the truth never bends
Bring all that you're scared to defend
And lay it down when you walk through my door
Throw all of it out on the floor
Your sorrow, your beauty, your war
I want it all, I want it all
Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence
And unpack your heart
Show me something the rest never see
Give me all that you hope to receive
Your deepest regret dies with me
The days when you stumble and fall
The days when you grind to a crawl
The treasure that hides behind your walls
I want it all, yeah I want it all
Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence
And unpack your heart
Unpack your heart
Oh, I'm on your side
So shed your shadow
And watch it rise
Oh, I'm on your side
So shed your shadow
And watch it rise
Into your darkness
I'll shine a light
Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence
Bring your honor, bring your shame
All your madness, I will tame
Won't you lay down, down your guard
Share your silence
And unpack your heart
Lovely.
Now here this, Universe: the next time I unpack my heart, it'll be with someone capable of making space for me, unpacking his heart, and leaving it unpacked, even when it gets scary and hard...
I've been listening lately to the CDs that my first love has made me over the years, and I realized something: the only song that he ever repeated from one disc to the next (decades passed between some of them) was the song Hurt.
Sometimes it just feels like there's so much hurt in this life. It's everywhere you look. And even the most magical feelings of love often get replaced by hurt. I say often because I know, not from my own life, but from the examples of others, that it is possible to love someone as much as I let myself love the New Englander and have it turn it very differently than that relationship turned out.
I was talking today to a bodyworker who advised me that now probably isn't the time to date, but when people start asking, to just stay really hypervigilant that I don't once again take elements of a person and a relationship and create a projection -- even if it's a really fucking beautiful projection -- of the partner and the love I am seeking. Because ultimately, that's what I did with the New Englander, because originally, that's what I did with my father.
Tricky business, this heart stuff. Luckily, like all hard things about being human, the difficulty and complexity of our hearts can be mitigated with poetry and music.
I'm going to start with the poetry. This poem is called Heart. It is from an episode of the New Yorker this summer, and it was written by Sue Song. I first read it when I was out in Portland in August, and it has come to symbolize for me the universality of the difficulty that two human beings so often have with loving one another:
When removed, I know
you will be more mahogany
than vermillion. The mass
of you less than one pound—
fisted fibre of muscle, language
of tremor under the breastbone
quieted.
Sorry for blaming you.
Too many nights I felt you
transform to the heaviest alloy
and demand to be carried,
rite of my fidelity to you.
Then, on whim, you’d dissolve
quick as mercury,
rise to cast my throat,
cause an allergy of tears.
I hated your cadence, betraying
me. Contraction and beat,
stenograph of your honesty
when my lips were complicit.
I understand you are sensitive.
Forgive those years I left you
pounding your Morse of grief, alone—
knocking against my sternum,
wondering if I was even there.
Wow.
And finally, from the speakers in the locker room this morning came this song -- a new one to me -- and it seemed hopeful:
Meet me where the sunlight ends
Meet me where the truth never bends
Bring all that you're scared to defend
And lay it down when you walk through my door
Throw all of it out on the floor
Your sorrow, your beauty, your war
I want it all, I want it all
Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence
And unpack your heart
Show me something the rest never see
Give me all that you hope to receive
Your deepest regret dies with me
The days when you stumble and fall
The days when you grind to a crawl
The treasure that hides behind your walls
I want it all, yeah I want it all
Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence
And unpack your heart
Unpack your heart
Oh, I'm on your side
So shed your shadow
And watch it rise
Oh, I'm on your side
So shed your shadow
And watch it rise
Into your darkness
I'll shine a light
Bring your secrets, bring your scars
Bring your glory, all you are
Bring your daylight, bring your dark
Share your silence
Bring your honor, bring your shame
All your madness, I will tame
Won't you lay down, down your guard
Share your silence
And unpack your heart
Lovely.
Now here this, Universe: the next time I unpack my heart, it'll be with someone capable of making space for me, unpacking his heart, and leaving it unpacked, even when it gets scary and hard...
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