I want you,
In the clothes that you were born
Or the rags I’ve got today
Oversized and faded, I want you laying on the floor
Like the muse in Neruda’s poems; like a Leonard Cohen girl
You, in all black, your face pressed to the vent
Me in my shame and my old John Hartford hat
Looking like the mess we are
Hiding a smile when you look at me, you know
I love you in the morning so I know it’s no lie.
An’ I’ll be there with you before the roll is called yonder
Set silently, I won’t ask questions
I don’t want answers to
But I want you in a room where no one’s ever been
Where nothing’s yet forgiven; but the dust settles evenly
And the wind whispers outside our window
With the snow piling up outside
Stuck in a bed that’s been burning
When holding still is its own kiss of life
and staying is the bravest word to say.
And in all the tales of old, great men
Displaced and disappeared from our world
Brave heroics, chemists, priests and mathematicians
Down to Sisyphus and his rock
I can see they’ve done it all for you
Burning on the back of your left hand.
And I intend to do it all again.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 6:47 AM UTC
I want you,
In the clothes that you were born
Or the rags I’ve got today
Oversized and faded, I want you laying on the floor
Like the muse in Neruda’s poems; like a Leonard Cohen girl
You, in all black, your face pressed to the vent
Me in my shame and my old John Hartford hat
Looking like the mess we are
Hiding a smile when you look at me, you know
I love you in the morning so I know it’s no lie.
An’ I’ll be there with you before the roll is called yonder
Set silently, I won’t ask questions
I don’t want answers to
But I want you in a room where no one’s ever been
Where nothing’s yet forgiven; but the dust settles evenly
And the wind whispers outside our window
With the snow piling up outside
Stuck in a bed that’s been burning
When holding still is its own kiss of life
and staying is the bravest word to say.
And in all the tales of old, great men
Displaced and disappeared from our world
Brave heroics, chemists, priests and mathematicians
Down to Sisyphus and his rock
I can see they’ve done it all for you
Burning on the back of your left hand.
And I intend to do it all again.