A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || September 29, 2006 || 2:03 pm

In The After

I welcome the rain
Despite the threat
Of being whipped and bit
By its windy slap
And cold liquid thumbtacks;
I stand bare, firmly fixed, ready
Eyes on the roiling clouds
Because I know the lush growth
That comes, quietly unfolding

In The After.

3 worked it out »

  1. Anonymous 9.30.2006

    Took me all this time to hear what you’re saying: hours and hours, rereading over and over.

    I was due to respond, “It wasn’t til I stood to push you over that I realised you’d already broken every last one of my bones.”

    That would be evidence of me riding the alltogether incorrect train. Instead, my only response is to gaze in wonder.

    Never have I met someone so capable of leading me to truths I already knew, but worked against, and will continue to work against.

    “This is an old song

    These are old blues

    And this is not my tune

    But it’s mine to use…

    And down where I darn with the milk-eyed mender

    You and I, and a love so tender

    Is stretched-on the hoop where I stitch-this addage

    “Bless her house and her heart so savage.”

    And all that I want

    And all that I need

    And all that I’ve got

    Is scattered like seed

    And all that I knew

    Is moving away from me

    And all that I know

    Is blowing like tumbleweed…

    And the love we hold

    And the love we spurn

    Will never grow cold

    Only taciturn…”

    Sadie – Joanna Newsom

  2. chris robinson 9.30.2006

    I had just listened to a radio program devoted to the career of John Prine when I turned to your poem. A comparison with his songs is inevitable , and it lies in your common ability to surprise and illuminate with a turn of phrase. You didn’t go for the idea of purification as a washing away of dirt or corruption; instead you showed renewal. It is like saying yes when you’re expected to say no. Just beautiful. Thanks so much.

  3. Jettomatika 9.30.2006

    christopher, I always love when I ding your insides, because i feel like you give both honest praise and critique. I’m sorry we didn’t get to speak, and I’ll phone again soon(ish). The comparison to John Prine is massively humbling, because I think him a simple sort of genius, and very accessible:

    “We said our goodbyes long ago

    Never thinking wed miss each other so

    All the memories we cant leave behind

    Oh, we must have been out of our minds”


    I promise to bleed little when you put a fist in my face as long as you agree to keep breathing when I snap up the choke chain. We are both terrible and great all at once, the end.


RSS feed for comments on this post.

(you know you want to)