such things run in the family.

Day 88 -- November 10

 

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we speak in the store, i'm a sensitive bore.

you seem markedly more, and i'm oozing surprise.

but it's late in the day, and you're well on your way,

what was golden went grey and i'm suddenly shy.

and the gathering floozies afford to be choosy,

and all sneezing darkly in the dimming divide.

i have read the right book to interpret your look:

you were knocking me down with the palm of your eye.

 

this is unlike the story it was written to be.

I was riding it's back, when it used to ride me,

and we were galloping manic to the mouth of the source,

we were swallowing panic in the face of it's force.

and i am blue,

i am blue and unwell.

it made me bolt like a horse.

 

now it's done.

watch it go.

and you've change some.

 

water runs from the snow,

am i so dear?

do i run rare?

and you've changed some.

peach plum pear,

peach plum.

 

[Peach, Plum, Pear. Joanna Newsom]

Done