For Lhasa (September 27, 1972 – January 1, 2010)
[you running]
eyes have
passed the revolutions
passed the years
of memory
children dawning
in the streets
your feet across the water
finality in your touch
the heart that shimmers
in the sanctuary of your breast
cover the opening
red showers
red flowering cradles
drive the lost news
name
cell
derivation
poems freed in the night
cooing child
pasquessence
vividly before you
running, the green shade
the wonder
bleeds back to night
the taste of need
the taste of welcome
the night’s cowl greets
the dawn
through the window of your
song
you claim the ties
of houselove
the quiet fleece
of death
in her sinews
traveling
traveling
traveling
love’s grip released.
eyes have
passed the revolutions
passed the years
of memory
children dawning
in the streets
your feet across the water
finality in your touch
the heart that shimmers
in the sanctuary of your breast
cover the opening
red showers
red flowering cradles
drive the lost news
name
cell
derivation
poems freed in the night
cooing child
pasquessence
vividly before you
running, the green shade
the wonder
bleeds back to night
the taste of need
the taste of welcome
the night’s cowl greets
the dawn
through the window of your
song
you claim the ties
of houselove
the quiet fleece
of death
in her sinews
traveling
traveling
traveling
love’s grip released.
Labels: and for ms mood
posted by murat11 at 1:16 PM
17 Comments:
I love the ending - the release, the letting go.
Great poetic tribute. The song was neat, too.
Dee: I did not obsessively listen to Lhasa as I do others, but her The Living Road album is a touchstone for both Tina and me.
Thank you, Teresa. Good to have you droppin' in. I've loved this Weather Report piece since the 70s: love the kids' voices: they reminded me of Lhasa's spirit.
Actually, I read your blog every time it comes up with a new post. Lately, my computer's internet function has been acting up, so I can't always post. Quite frustrating. But I ordered my new computer today!!! I should get it the first day of classes at the end of the month. It will be "Passion Purple," a very, very cool color... Off to read some more for the thesis and a couple of papers I'm trying to "buff up" to get published. Somebody put out a book last month that could be construed as punching holes in my analysis before it's even hit the journals. Oh well, I needed another 10 pages, so now I've found something meaty to talk about. So glad the computer is cooperating today so I can talk to you.
"Passion purple," is it? Sounds as if you'll have to "drive" that baby with [your] New York brim and [your] gold tooth displayed.... (ZZ Top, "I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide," if it ain't familiar.)
Whoever's tryin to punch holes in your analysis better know just what kind of car you're driving. I'm guessing the new computer's also a convertible.
Don't all the California girls drive convertibles? Is there any other vehicle worthy of speeding along the channels of the internet?
Don't have a gold tooth yet... but maybe in a year or so when my ship comes in. :)
Of course, the author didn't know she's punching holes in my analysis. She's some uptight Cliffie, I guess. The book is published by Harvard Press. She won't be looking at any of us poor people going to some third rate public school in a flat-broke state with a god-awful moniker called "The Beach!" The whole thing reeks of Frankie Avalon, Annette Funicello, and surfer babes and dudes. No NE preppy is gonna think we have anything under the sunbleached hair that might throw her analysis (all 386 pages of it with another 205 pages of notes and references) out the window in just 30 to 60 pages. Problem with NE preppies is that they don't study martial arts or any of the other groovy things we do out here. We know how to use the weight of the behemoth against it... now ain't that the truth?
I'm gonna have fun in the "battle of the brains" and sunlight is a wondrous thing for promoting human well-being. She will not know what hit her.
Teresa: If I didn't know the intellectual rigor of my favorite Californian (transplanted), I'd say this all sounds deliciously Oedipal. I do love the notion of brawny brains being toppled by some bodacious tai-chi-secake. Of course, you and I could be doing some awful generalizing: poor girl might be from Bakersfield herself and have a fearsome crush on Buck Owens. Ya nevva know...
Is it Oedipal or Electral (electric??)? We could do a wicked screenplay, but I guess that is what Legally Blond was trying to do. Our would be deeper, more symbolic, get some archetypes and symbols and godess motifs going on. And of course, in Legally Blond, she did hair and nails and not tai chi. (Love the tai-chi-secake pun!!)
And yes, we might be generalizing, but that's what artists get to do... and this blog is pure art, bro. We don't have to footnote a thing.
T: I knew I wuz treading thinly with the Oedipal. Siggy, no friend of mine, never could get down with Carl Gustav's Electra, but as you're the one mud-wrestling (scene for the screenplay?) the uptight Cliffie, it's your call: you can have whatever complex you want. They were both a couple of bad boys, after all.
I see we now have two screenplays on the back burners. Here's hoping I get to play Buck.
have to say - giggled at tai-chi-secake. Better watch it Buck - you may have a tiger by the tail :)
Ms Dee giggling on the sidelines. Year of the Tiger coming, and I live with a Tiger-Boy.
Oooh, tiger's gotta be careful at other people's weddings. They aren't supposed to kiss the bride (unless it's their own). Wonder why...
haha as my daughter would say - RAWR!
Typical funereal behavior: I'm sure Lhasa would approve.
I could really feel the essence of her music in your poem, Paschal. It's a lovely tribute!
Oh I almost didn't notice the label - how sweet :)
DM: I was happy with the poem. I'm a long way from absorbing her music, but this felt like a start.
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