The unravelled tapestry
The song sung unaccompanied
The unfinished symphony
The valley wasted
On the artist
The dreamer too tired
To sleep
The writer picking only
Last will and testament
From a lifetime
Of words
All have joined
The ranks
Though they will find
Neither death nor
Glory here,
For this is the time
To put our backs
Into it,
To put clothes
On our backs
And food on
The table,
And we are all
The poorer for that.

I got a phone call late last night
and who was it but Mr. President.
"Ya got no business callin' when I'm trying' to write!"
"Can it, pal, you owe me rent."

In seconds flat I's out the door.
Ran a block and hailed a taxi.
But I left my cash in my underwear drawer
so I couldn't pay the cabby.

So I got dumped out in East River,
and as I's swimmin', met a mermaid.
She went by the name Bette Midler.
She ran me to shore, gave me a band-aid.

There I was all cold and wet
with seagulls overhead laughin' at me.
I wrangled 'em all in a fisherman's net,
started walkin' to Cincinnati.

Naturally, I got lost along the way
tuggin' at a movie star's blouse.
When finally I looked up, to my dismay,
I's standin' on the lawn of the White House.

Mr. President said, "I can send you to prison
or exile you to Nantucket."
And sure as seagulls are mean and Christ is risen,
I threw up my hands and said

This world spins
like a record
and we are
the needle

I dug up your grave
because I missed you,
those nights lying beside you
watching your stomach rise and fall
with each sacred breath you took,
eyes open then shut then open, again.
I took those subtle movements for granted, I did.
Subdued I was by the present.
Now as I kneel at your stone
in the loneliest Spring I can recall,
beneath a pale and faceless moon,
holding your bones,
glancing them in moonlight,
I find they look nothing like you.
There is no warmth that I expected,
no memory coursing through them.
You have moved on from me
so that I may do the same.
Yet, now my heart is scattered
like the bones I kneel beside.

No deception in his yellow eyes -
I admire the hawk, I do -
as talons seize the shrew.

Forthright in his motions,
he takes that which he needs,
to sentiments pays no heed.

For nature is indifferent,
not blind to love or hate.
A course narrow and straight.

You came to me an angel.
With gleaming eyes, seduced.
Around your head a halo,
now become my noose.