Bon Iver - Towers (Official Music Video) from Bon Iver on Vimeo.
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.
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Welcome to "When I Wax"-- a place to escape the pedants and wax poetic, or even wax artistic.
The mythologist Joseph Campbell was asked by an interviewer how a regular person could preserve his sense of the mythic when so many feel too besieged by the claims of every day living. He said, "You must have a place to which you can go, in your heart, in your mind, or your house, almost every day, where you do not know what you owe anyone or what anyone owes you. You must have a place you can go to where you do not know what your work is or who you work for, where you do not know who you are married to or who your children are."
When I Wax is such a place for me. Blogging drafts of poetry and other sundries is like practice fly-casting on the front lawn... it may look silly, but it's effective...
The mythologist Joseph Campbell was asked by an interviewer how a regular person could preserve his sense of the mythic when so many feel too besieged by the claims of every day living. He said, "You must have a place to which you can go, in your heart, in your mind, or your house, almost every day, where you do not know what you owe anyone or what anyone owes you. You must have a place you can go to where you do not know what your work is or who you work for, where you do not know who you are married to or who your children are."
When I Wax is such a place for me. Blogging drafts of poetry and other sundries is like practice fly-casting on the front lawn... it may look silly, but it's effective...
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Anatomy
- ADK
- Africa
- aiki
- allegory
- anagram
- art
- Cagey Tweed
- children's art
- crossings
- debt
- eclipsing luna
- festival of trees
- guest art
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- guest poetry
- haibun
- haiku
- hybrid
- inspiration
- jade
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- literary quotes
- lyrics
- Momix
- music
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- NYC
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- superior
- symbolism
- video
- Zucchero
Capilarities
- Almost Literary
- An Eudaemonist
- Art Propelled
- Beauty We Love
- Bibliodyssey
- Buffalo Pen
- Butterfly
- Clarity of Night
- Extra Special Bitter
- Face First
- ...Failed Painter
- Festival of the Trees
- Find Me A Bluebird
- hor.de
- Hunting Haiku
- Isola-di-Rifiuti
- Just Paisley
- Just Write
- Keeping Secrets
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- Lets Call This Truth
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- Old Mossy Moon
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- Out Of The Woods Now
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- Poet in Residence
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- Sketch of the Day
- Soul's Phantasm
- Speaking of Poetry
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- Stripped
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- Walking Man
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- Whiskey River
- Yuckelbel's Canon
- YuzuBlizzard
Other Veins
Vitals
- KGT (aka Cagey)
- Tentative philomath, aspiring polymath. Sometimes ribald, most times Renaissance, always looking in the rearview mirror.
CURRENT MOON
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.
Thank you
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
George Gordon Byron
The Destruction of Sennacherib
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.
2 comments:
Such an interesting graphic to go with youthful imagery in lyrics. Beautiful, sad, relative, honest, formative and yet, okay. Life is and continues. Great lyrics by Bon I.
For the love, Iʼd fallen on
in the swampy August dawn
what a mischief you would bring young darling!
when the onus is not all your own
when you’re up for it before you’ve grown
from the faun forever gone
in the towers of your honeycomb
I’d a tore your hair out just to climb back darling
when you’re filling out your only form
can you tell that itʼs just ceremon’
now you’ve added up to what you’re from
build your tether rain-out from your fragments…
break the sailor’s table on your sacrum…
fuck the fiercest fables, I’m with Hagen
for the love, comes the burning young
from the liver, sweating through your tongue
well, youʼre standing on my sternum don’t you climb down darling
oh the sermons are the first to rest
smoke on Sundays when youʼre drunk and dressed
out the hollows where the swallow nests
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