Evening Song
by Kenneth Fearing

Sleep, McKade.
Fold up the day. It was a bright scarf.
Put it away.
Take yourself to pieces like a house of cards.

It is time to be a grey mouse under a tall building.

Go there. Go there now.
Look at the huge nails. Run behind the pipes.
Scamper in the walls.
Crawl towards the beckoning girl, her breasts are warm.
But here is a dead man. A murderer?
Kill him with your pistol. Creep past him to the girl.

Sleep, McKade.
Throw one arm across the bed. Wind your watch.
You are a gentleman, and important.
Yawn. Go to sleep.

The continent turning from the sun is quiet.
Your ticker waits for tomorrow morning
And you are alive now.
It will be a long time before they put McKade under the sod.
Sometime, but not now.
Sometime, though. Sometime, for certain.

Take apart your brain,
Close the mouths in it that have been hungry,
They are fed for a while.
Go to sleep, you are a gentleman. McKade, alive and sane.
A gentleman of position.

Tip your hat to the lady.
Speak to the mayor.
You are a personal friend of the mayor’s, are you not?
True. A friend of the mayor’s.
And you met the Queen of Roumania. True.

Then go to sleep.
Be a dog sleeping in the old sun.
Be a poodle drowsing in the old sun, by the Appian Way.
Be a dog lying the meadow watching soldiers pass on the road.
Chase after the woman who beckons.
Run from the policeman with the dagger. It will split your bones.
Be terrified.
Curl up and drowse on the pavement of Fifth Avenue in the old sun.
Sleep, McKade.
Yawn.
Go to sleep.

This little guy appeared in the backyard yesterday. At this very moment, he turned to face the camera.

And again, I stress my need for a true macro lens.

But the rain in NJ does a smashing job of beading up on my clear umbrella.

The thunder isn’t bad either. I’m entertaining the idea of going to bed at a disruptively early hour (now) since I’ve been sleep deprived for far too many weeks now and beginning to feel it more keenly than usual.

No comments

For the last four days, I’ve had the same song stuck in my head. It’s by these guys, right here.

That guy, Brandon Summers… and this guy - Benjamin Weikel - playing Dynamic Drummer Boy:

Together… they are… The Helio Sequence!

And here’s the song that’s been lodged in my head for the last 96 hours - “Can’t Say No” by The Helio Sequence.

I’ll post photos of Siren Festival specifically in a day or two… computer access issues. I’ve popped a whole bunch up onto a public Picasa gallery, if’n you’re interested. Linky link link.

Coney Island is just an interesting place to use your rods and cones. People-watching, coupled with the craziness of a boardwalk/carnival… just interesting. So here are some photos.

Ghosts of My Friends arrived today - how I love the Royal Mail! I’ve taken a few photos of the interiors, but this is my absolute favorite segment so far… it forms a clear face with arms and shoulders sort of shrugging and going, “What??”

On May 25, 1909. Almost 100 years ago. Crazy.

Here’s a link to the Picasa album where I’ve posted more photos and will continue to post them. I need some help if I’m to take better photos - just someone to hold the book open without letting his/her fingers show too much and so that I can get them in a place with better lighting.

Some of these photos suuuuck for now, but I’ll get there. I’m just too excited NOT to snap them.

This next one has a very “Eye of Sauron” kind of vibe going for it:

The one below reminds me of dandelion fluff:

And here’s what the camera caught as a firetruck raced by during the fireworks:

Last night, I printed up four of my favorite photos (from the photos I’ve been posting these last few weeks) on my inkjet photo printer. I cropped them to square dimensions, just because I like that look.

Today, I took down all the craziness I used to have hanging above my desk at work and replaced it with the four photos and a postcard of a Charles Rennie Mackintosh botanical illustration which had been hanging there, but was surrounded by xkcd comics, book covers, and pictures of animals from CuteOverload.

I like that I will have my own photographs hanging at my desk; granted, they’re not framed or anything, but they’re lovely all the same and I’m proud of them.

There’s other excitement happening tomorrow at my desk. It will be a good day.

(Also, to bring me back from emotional wreckitude from “Away from Her”, I’m now watching Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in “His Girl Friday”. It’ll cure what ails ya.)