To Norton,
I know about the baskets
I read about them
I know
My voice seemed strange and overwhelming
Running from green and reaching for gray
I told him, I says, "you cream puff..."
The top of my head was not my face then
How did those prophetic fourth graders seek counsel
amongst triplets, golf prodigies, bruised souls, and plaqued teeth
N.early E.xited S.tations around the corner
gave birth to the commuters
We were none the wiser
Sounds feuded in the basement
Nude scientists made sense of their odd creations
This could fly, that could bend fire, she was there
Always there, seemingly, as soon as you let her be
"I packed my suitcase and threw it away"
And God knew I had seen the end of the day
At Virgin Record stores, the original Newbury
Neo New England
Oh Norton
The gas station told us our fortune
And we played along oddly like forked spoons
Leopard Skin, let the record spin...
So this one is in response to another poem by an extremely talented writer whose blog is called "The Machine Must Speak For Itself"...find him, read the "letter to E. Sherman" then read the rest of his poems...a true artist/writer he is...pure and true.
I dig this reply. The intertwing of the Beck references points to so much experiential stuff between you and I and what it means to listen to music, laugh at it, but laugh at it because it's so good it almost shouldn't exist.
ReplyDeleteBoth are great on their own.. juxtaposed together.. pretty fantastic.
ReplyDeleteDUG! :)
hilariously enough i think i missed like two lines...cause the "baskets" and "green" were tied in somewhere as Greenday Basket CASE...LMAO!...and DYETIO, did u get the spud reference and the David Raymond twist...I MISS THAT!!!...lol
ReplyDelete