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So I am the eyes |
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That my father cried out |
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In our swamp sunk with doubt |
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In the darkyards of North Country aging uncles |
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Caught in the summer horrid |
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Endless and fluttered torrid |
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But all of my ditches |
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Were buzzing green as I grew taller |
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Fam'ly don't know that |
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I've seen the road end |
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Far past the bridges where |
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Salt thaws out to the river |
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There on the roadside |
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Passing by I spied |
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Billboards that relied on |
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Only I to deliver |
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The dusk to the years |
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And old mirrors, in here |
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Now those windows still bring back memories |
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Supermarket rusting through the trees |
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Hearts drawn on invisibilities, like these |
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Aching Spring please bring a ring |
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For the powder songs these orchards sing |
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And that shall string the one thing I have left |
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In Adirondacka, you are the fire escape alley gleaming |
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I've shed your red valleys dreaming |
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Of Springtown streets and pinksky sheets |
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Adirondacka, harmonicas were blowing through the fairgrounds, darlin' |
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Life blows their scary sounds on us |
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But that is why the spirits fly in Adirondacka |
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So my twitchin' girl |
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When I kissed you our dock had been broken |
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And every word spoken |
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Were desp'rate desire seeds |
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Sown in your raging hair |
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Blown to your face so fair |
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But I died five lifetimes |
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Before I breathed just what I needed |
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No place is safe no more |
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'Cept sometimes in my door- |
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I have something that no one else ever touches |
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Oh Adirondacka, dust bowl harmonicas |
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Blew through poor houses |
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And all sorts of awkward crutches |
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The city hall poplars soon perfumed of death |
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The kitchen yellows soon paled every breath |
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The afternoon lethargy makes our home cleft, and left |
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Open wide as barns divide the supper swamp and gentle pride |
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From every side as sunset is upset |
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In America, the mayor comes |
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And walks among the Greenpark benches |
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Dreams are just like endless trenches |
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It quenches me halfheartedly |
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Adirondacka, I am the water you are pumping |
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The town-end glades are up and jumping |
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The narrow road, my past implodes in episodes that I've forgotten |
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We love our families |
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We love our twilight trees |
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We love our memories |
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Salt pours out to the river |
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There on the swamp edge |
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Skies north of the mountains |
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My eyes pulse like fountains |
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And salt pours out to the river |
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Kiss you in eye-gulps |
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As my piney heart yelps |
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In no other manner |
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Could salt pour out to the river |
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At dinnertime |
