Newsom sings about the stars
I posted a fing about the Pleiades star cluster earlier, and it made me think of my girl Joanna Newsom. You either love her or hate her, but I believe her to be one of the best lyricists and storytellers around. I love her music, but her words can easily stand alone as poetry.
May I therefore present to you a few lines from my favourite of her songs, Emily, written about her astrophysicist sister, which I mentioned in my earlier post.
Emily
Come on home, the poppies are all grown knee-deep by now
Blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow
Peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow, with
With hydrocephalitic listlessness ants mop up-a their brow
And everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour
The butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours
And my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines
Come on home, now! All my bones are dolorous with vines
Pa pointed out to me, for the hundredth time tonight
The way the ladle leads to a dirt-red bullet of light
Squint skyward and listen -
Loving him, we move within his borders:
Just asterisms in the stars’ set order
We could stand for a century
Starin’
With our heads cocked
In the broad daylight at this thing
Joy
Landlocked
In bodies that don’t keep
Dumbstruck with the sweetness of being
Till we don’t be
Told; take this
Eat this.
