High Love

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing;
Wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing;
There is yet faith
But faith and love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

Do not let me hear
Of the wisdom of old men,
But rather of their folly,
Their fear of fear and frenzy,
Their fear of possession,
Of belonging to another,
Or to others,
Or to God.
The only wisdom we can hope to acquire
Is the wisdom of humility:
Humility is endless.

The houses are all gone under the sea.

The dancers are all gone under the hill.

I do my best to sleep through the caterwaul
The classicist, the posture in avant-garde
I bought a gray macaw, named him Jules Verne
He’ll probably outlive me - he’s a bright bird
Keeps me company, I teach him new words

I saw a hologram at the theme park
She looked as real as me through the white fog
Then she melted down to her ankles
Turned into a million-watt candle
If I knew where she went, I would follow

Walking through the land of tomorrow
Martian trinkets, plastic Apollos
In the sunshine, try to act normal
My veins are full of flat cherry cola
Slept on the bench by her rollercoaster

Dreamt I was riding on a motorbike
Lion of Judah, painted on the side

I’m doing fine, I’m back in the Palisades
Life’s a wash, a pastoral school play
China shops and cold ivory towers
I and I make toast to the Caesars
Forcing down the dregs of Decembers

Madeleine she spins in a slow pain
All through the house, the strong smell of burnt sage
Let’s make it clean and run out the spirits
I know a diving bell when I hear it

We’re going down now under the surface
Light to dark can shift in an instant
Feeling close but keeping my distance
On all fours she’s just so insistent
Fills my mind with jump ropes and slit wrists

Bust through the firewall into Heaven

And then I’m standing in that blinding light
Crooked crosses falling from the sky

Seen yeah seen by I and I

Losing love is like a window in your heart.
Everyone can see you’re blown apart.
Everyone can see the wind blow
In Graceland.

at Philadelphia Museum of Art

at Philadelphia Museum of Art