How old is the whale?
Older than the lines on your grandmother's hands
And how old is my heart?
Older than all the roots that hold down the dirt
That makes up this mountain
That harbors your heart
How old are the stars?
Where do I end?
And they begin?
The stars are older than words know how to be
And the light from every star that you see
Has traveled more miles and years than there are seeds in the ground
Than there are leaves in the trees
Or specks of dirt on your feet
Just to sparkle in your eyes here tonight
And those dark spaces in between the stars
Are just the places that the light has not yet reached

My favorite word is flesh, my favorite word is fear
My favorite days are the ones when I feel like I am here
My favorite feeling is lonely, favorite subject is love
I'm a sad little poet
In a sad little world
Where everything's nostalgic and everything is trite
I never believe a single word that I write
And neither, dear,
Should you

title goes here
fingers go here

I fixed the sharp
you forced the flat
don't forget to
tighten the strap

hammer the note
bar it with a snap

but with
all these notes
clouding the air

I
can't hear
where we're really at.