Walls and Bridges

Indra's lightning cleft the mountain
Water poured from Shiva's head
A river flowed into the valley
Vishwa-karma, build us a city

A bright roofed palace to shine in the sun
A great temple carved from living rock
Every person should have a place
And every place should have a purpose

The making of a city is not for one man
But assistants, crew chiefs, workers, and foremen
Of all these helpers, there was one favorite
Kshitija-mitra built the bridge

This story exists in many versions and forms
In one, the bridge is a mighty success
Acclaimed by man and god alike
Till Vishwa-karma, in a jealous rage
Curses his student, saying to him
Each bridge you build will stand on its end
And there on its end it will become a wall

In another it is not a commission of the gods
But a gift to his wife, that goes horribly wrong,
And her curse to him is the walls of her silence
To which he is bound forever long

Every time I build a bridge it turns into a wall

I looked at the ruins
Of the land bridge to Lanka
I swayed on a foot bridge
With the Indus below
I walked a pontoon
In the midst of the Yamuna
These may be bridges
But this is not my bridge

My bridge must be more
Than a way one could cross
It should be, above all
A place for people to meet
To sit, to converse, to enjoy the breezes
Of the river as it flows
Below your feet

Rocks and rubble and
Stones and rubble and
Mortar and rubble and
Rubble and rubble

Every time I build a bridge it turns into a wall


h/t B. Shivkumar

The Fantasy of Fifty

The women stayed up past
Their self-appointed bedtimes
The men they drank well past
Their self-apportioned quotas

And we talked of this and that
Deep into the night

(She said)
You guys look just the same
Which seemed a little strange
As many years have passed

But when I looked
I saw that it was true
These are the faces that I knew

Back when our kids were small
At soccer in the fall
Or at the camporee

The sparks fly up
The flames die down
But the coals keep burning red
Until the morning

How could this come to be
This quirk of memory
Has time been standing still

Has familiarity
Buffed our faces free
Of all the things we’ve shared

Or wiped away the masks
That flatten out our pasts
Affording us a glimpse
Into each other’s souls

The sparks fly up
The flames die down
But the coals keep burning red
Until the morning

In the bathroom light
My eyes are deep and dark
With bags as black as coal

I was so surprised
When I looked into my eyes
I didn’t know myself

It’s the fantasy of fifty
The fantasy of fifty

I Should Have Told You

I should have told you I was planning to decamp
You should have told me you were leaving with that tramp
I should have told you
Yes you should
I should have told...
I wish you would
But you didn't so I just assumed the best

I should have told you that my heart was growing cold
You should have told me that you'd started feeling old
I should have told you
Yes you should
I should have told...
I wish you would
But you didn't so I just assumed the best

The heart of love
Beats in the pulse
Of daily conversation

You should have told me
Yes I should
You should have told...
Oh if I could
But you didn't do I just assumed the best
I was a fool but so were you
Now let's get dressed

Worries

Hangnails and wrinkles
All the ways that you worry
Eats you up from inside
Takes it slow, there's no hurry
The outcomes you wish for
The pitfalls you fear
A surfeit of caring
For those you hold dear
It's the wind in the trees
Of a long sleepless night
A creak on the stairs
That doesn't sound right
So do what you can
Don't worsen the mess
And resolve that tomorrow
You will get more rest

Verplanck Good Times

Wake up being smothered by the dog, take him outside
Brew a pot of coffee read the paper, in the sunshine
Jazz on the radio
Waffle iron ready to go
Normal Sunday morning at my house, that's how we roll

Kids out in the street so they can play, have a good time
Dads all mow their lawns or fix their cars, have a good time
Cookies and lemonade
Dogs lying in the shade
Normal Sunday morning at my house, that's how we roll

Grab the shopping bags and hit the road, grocery store
Neighbors on the corner drinking beer, watching the score
Burgers out on the grill
Pasta salad ready to chill
Normal Sunday morning at my house, that's how we roll

The Heart of the Mesa

He sets down his pack
Kicks the dust from his boots
Waits neath a cottonwood tree

Till a speck on the landscape
Lengthens to shadow
And that familiar face is what he sees

In the first light of dawn
They head off again
And walk through the rest of the day

In the evening they camp
By the long flat topped shadow
Watching the sun slip away

Look into your heart
Tell me what you love
Look into your soul
Tell me what you own
Because the soul of the desert
Is a cold empty place
And the heart of the mesa
Is made out of stone

"You think it's still there
After all this time
Where we left it, buried, alone?"

"Yes it's still there
Nothing has changed
I can feel it, deep in my bones"

Look into your heart
Tell me what you love
Look into your soul
Tell me what you own
Because the soul of the desert
Is a cold empty place
And the heart of the mesa
Is made out of stone

Fire Island (1998)

First the sand
Then the sound
Then the sand
And then the island
Then the sand
Then the sound
And then you're there

At the Inn
And the Out
Girls walk in
And they walk out
And the men
Just sit there and stare

At the girls of Babylon

Birdwatching talk
Snakes across
The wooden boardwalk
Watching hawks
And nudists on the beach

Down on the point
Tony rolls another joint
As the sun
Dips down beneath the dunes

Over Babylon

Chrysler Jeeps
Drive up and down the beach
Toward the moon
Always slightly out of reach

And the tan gay men
Find their way home again
Toward the lighthouse
And the night siren

Over Babylon

Gotta get away
Gotta get away
Gotta get away to Fire Island

Postcards and Trinkets

Don't come to Lisbon for sun
The days since I landed have been rainy and cold
And don't come to Paris for love
All the people I meet are unfriendly and old
Don't come to Milan for beauty
The city's a cesspool of gray industry
But all of these things would be different
If only you had come with me

I won't go to Lisbon for fun
I'm dreadfully busy right here at home
Neither Paris nor heaven above
Compare with the romance we have here in Rome
Milan, it has Berlusconi
I know perfectly well that it's frightful to see
But if you're on the road feeling lonely
Well, you should have stayed home with me

Postcards and trinkets
Airport souvenirs
Say that I love you
You know that I love you
And I miss you each day you're not here

20 Years

The smell of fresh whisky and stale cigarettes
Like gently used clothing or Evite regrets
You wear your moods like the rain wears a cloud
And your inside voice has been speaking out loud

Twenty years in and twenty to go
It's not what you've done it's all who you know
Uncomfortably poised on the edge of the show
You're twenty years in with twenty to go

Song For Maddie

The days of baths and diapers
Little princess shoes
And trips to petting zoos

The hours inside the sand box
You with your stuffed frog
Sweet Bobo was our dog

Now I'm getting old and sentimental
Remembering our California rental
Because those days of baths and diapers
Were the best days of my life

The months of strife and struggle
Commuting on the train
Two hours there and back again

The years were drawn and haggard
When it was just us three
You, your mom and me

A lemon tree in the front yard
Groceries on the credit card
And really it was very hard
But I wouldn't change a thing

Because those days of baths and diapers
Were the best days of my life

These Things Will Last (2001)

Build with stone
Write with script
These things will last

Kill the king
Start a cult
These things will last

It's what's left over
When your life has passed
Ritual
And artifacts

Plant your fields
Farm your crop
These things won't last

Count your days
Live your life
These things won't last

It's what's left over
When your life has passed
Bones and ash
And maybe, some of your trash

Brick Wall Blues

My life has been
On auto-pilot so long
I forgot where I was going
With this joke

Lately things have been kind of chaotic
But I’m in the same place nearly every single day
Getting hit in the face by that punch
Line

It feels like a setup
But the rhythm’s all wrong
And in comedy, timing is
Everything

Comedy is history
Played in reverse
Yes comedy is history
Played in reverse

I’m dying up here
In front of this brick wall
A firing squad
And an exposed brick wall

It’s funny when it happens
To somebody else
But we both know exactly
What I’m talking about

And it’s funny, you know
That the funny thing is
That it never
Turns out to be funny

Comedy is history
Played in reverse
Yes comedy is history
Played in reverse

Lyric For LCK

I'm walking the streets of Manhattan
In the rain
Taking pictures of street scenes and people
In the rain
And I'm thinking of you
And where you've gone to
And the things that you do
That make me feel blue
I'm walking the streets of Manhattan
In the rain

People are strange but a dog will always
Be your friend
They speak in a language that anyone
Can understand
And I'm thinking of you
And where you've gone to
And the things that you do
That make me feel blue
People are strange but a dog will always
Be your friend

In the cafe I start feeling old
The breeze from the street brings a shivering cold
The piles of books that are sitting unsold
The coffee that comes out too bitter and bold

So I'm walking the streets of Manhattan
In the rain
Yes I'm walking the streets of Manhattan
In the rain

Had To Have You

V1.
You made me wait so long
With all your carrying on
But I had to have you

I couldn't be that strong
To be your tag along
Still I had to have you

C1.
That night
Did it feel right
Or was just a flight
Of my imagination?
You know
That I would stand and fight
If it just might
Get me your invitation

V2.
You had me on the phone
Tryin' to hold my own
But I just had to have you

Did I play the fool
Did I lose my cool
Cause I just had to have you?

C2.
That night
Did it feel right
Or was just a flight
Of my imagination?
You know
That I would stand and fight
If it just might
Get me your invitation

B.
Walk you down the avenue
It's all I could do and I think that you knew
That I just had to have you

C3.
That night
Did it feel right
Or was just a flight
Of my imagination?
You know
That I would stand and fight
If it just might
Get me your invitation

Lee Knight's Dream

Yeah, so I was talking
To Stephen Hawking
He sounded just like the ghost
Of Marc Bolan.

We drove to his house
And he showed me where to park
My car so it wouldn't
Get stolen.

He plugged in his Tele
Straight into the amp
Pedals are for pussies
He said.

Man he sounded good
When he hit that first chord
It was like a choir directly
From God.

We swam in the surf
And we flew over valleys
He showed me cool places
In time.

And he told the body
Is just an illusion
You can go anywhere
In your mind.

There were all kinds of people
Who came to hang out
Edison and Washington
And Thoreau.

And we played rock and roll
Til the sun came up
Cause rock and roll
Is what frees your soul.

Then I woke up
Must have been a dream
But tonight I'm going to plug in my Tele
And make myself free.

And I'll swim in the ocean
And fly through the valleys
And visit cool places
In time.

Just One More (For The End Of The Road)

The ring of success
Remains highly elusive
You find happiness
In the daily quotidian
Forget all the diamonds
Mine for obsidian
The resort of your life
Is not that exclusive

Tierra del Fuego
Is the ends of the earth
Where the mountains collapse
Into archipelago
Our guide is Chilean
The storm Argentinian
And none of us know
What any of this is worth

So pour me another
And make it a double
Pour me one more
For the end of the road

We did take the acid
And yes it was brown
Just like the music
In the quickening mud
Just like the swan dive
And the sickening thud
The car's in the ditch
Shall we hitch
Back to town?

So pour me another
And make it a double
Pour me one more
For the end of the road

Double A Blues

My shoulder is in shreds
My elbow is hanging by a thread
But you don't need a slurve
To live a suburban life

It got me some girls
And put me through school
And showed me which diners
Are open all night

And you still love the game
But the game don't love you back
So they put you off the bus
And you have to find another track

I keep working out
Cause it's just what you do
And I keep going to rehab
While the insurance comes through

I know what it's like
To be the king of the hill
To be a man amoung boys
To give a giant crowd thrills

But now I'm just a guy
With a bad arm
And a pile
Of bills

Scott, Bob, Leo, Jay-Z and Me

The feeling
Of being
Fourteen
And reading
The Great Gatsby
For the very
First time.
Is concrete
Yet ineffable
Present
Yet unattainable
Like the green light
At the end
Of that Long Island
Dock.

I'm craggy
And weathered
Just like
Robert Redford
With a bittersweet
Nostalgia
For an earlier
Time.
It's concrete
Yet ineffable
Present
Yet unattainable
Like the green light
At the end
Of that Long Island
Dock.

We were all
Young once
But only
That once
And yes
It was terrible
But I do
Miss it so.
Concrete
Yet ineffable
Present
Yet unattainable
Like the green light
At the end
Of that Long Island
Dock.

Broken/Crack

He was kind of eccentric
But he smoked weed
And stayed up late into the night

He was kind of dyslexic
But he'd bless himself
To tell his left hand from his right

He taped the Russian broadcasts
From Cuba
Turned that Morse code into sound

He got married to a woman
Then she went crazy
Might have been the other way around

When you feel like you are broken
Things around you tend to crack
Yeah when you feel like you are broken
Things around you, they tend to crack

His wife she was a poet and a painter
You'd see her dancing down the street
Wearing out her toe shoes on the sidewalk
Dancing up and down the street

And you knew that she was crazy
But I knew her from way back when she was fun

When you feel like you are broken
Things around you tend to crack
Yeah when you feel like you are broken
Things around you, they tend to crack

First Day of Spring

I like the slinky mystery
Of your silky nylon tights
I like the way you look around
At the traffic light

I like the curve down from your back
That snakes over your hips
I like that glossy hint of cherry
Peeking off your lips

I know I've got the fever
You know you've got it too
Spring has sprung, let's get to work
There's things we gotta do

I like that slit down in your skirt
That button on your blouse
I like the wobble in your walk
On heels inside the house

And the kids say eeew
Poke me in the eye
They say eeew
Please just let me die
They say eeew
But it's the first day of spring
So yeah, I gotta sing
Even if it's TMI

I know I've got the fever
You know you've got it too
Spring has sprung, let's get to work
There's things we gotta do

And the kids say eeew
Poke me in the eye
They say eeew
Please just let me die
They say eeew
But it's the first day of spring
So yeah, I gotta sing
Even if it's TMI