As if discourse were a sacrament.
Back in college, all we did was stay up
drinking espresso or vodka
into the wee hours, talk about life --
now, maybe six words out of a thousand
are worth their vowels.
Better to sing those vowels, round-mouthed,
better to slap out the consonants on
your thighs,
now that we're older and we've realized
everything worth saying is already
set to music.
Take me to the river -- drop me in the water.
Fish me out clean
and wrap me in a blanket,
give me a glass of wine and sing me a lullaby.
Go to sleep you little baby.
Go to sleep you little baby.
Your mama's gone away
and your daddy's gone to stay
didn't leave nobody
but the baby.
(credits to Alison Krause et al.)
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