The pavement will crack
And when it does I’ll be there
To worship the grass – J. K. Berndt, “The Duskie”
-
Join 20 other subscribers
Recent Comments
- Mary Finelli on Nostalgia
- Pentagram Pizza for May 1 | Letter from Hardscrabble Creek on Gods in America
- Kay on
- Kay on
- Feral Boy on Gods in America
Archives
- August 2016
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- October 2010
- August 2010
Categories
Meta
Jack, do you never sleep, does the green still run deep in your heart?
Or will these changing times, motorways, powerlines, keep us apart?
Well, I don’t think so — I saw some grass growing through the pavements today.
The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
We’ve got to keep the loonies on the path
Many times I’ve loved – Many times been bitten
Many times I’ve gazed along the open road.
Many times I’ve lied – Many times I’ve listened
Many times I’ve wondered how much there is to know.
Good song, but where’s the grass reference?
I moved on to the road again … but about the grass:
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke
And somebody spoke, and I went into a dream …
Long are the days since we lay in the fields so green
And long are the nights, to consider what might have been
And the song of the geese in the wind will call your name
— The Rose You Wore For Me
Where does the wild swan wander?
On lonely shores where the salt foam tumbles
No roof but leaves, above a bed of moss
By silver streams that shun the homes of men.
So flies my heart over mountain rock:
My brother the deer, my sister the wolf;
To run alone in the cold gray wet of autumn
With the harsh tapping of twigs
And the flutter of wind-stripped leaves…
That bit of loveliness is from S. M. Stirling’s “The Protector’s War” – he says that most of the lyrics he used came from Heather Alexander songs, but if that’s one of them I can’t find it. I wish there *was* music for it…
http://www.therewilding.com/2010/08/going-wodwo/
http://gailehaley.com/greenman.html
Hey, thanks for the book! 1854… wow. Very cool!
I thought you’d like it. I got that book at a flea market on the way back from
visiting Ruth. Figured you’d like it … especially the old hymns and poetry!
We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
— Robert Frost