More Tom Waits

[gorphon]

consumnate misery (well close) at least in my opinion. and if youve heard the song, you might agree too

Woe

The ribbon round your neck

aganist your skin that's pale as bone

It is my favorite thing you've worn

The band is playing our song

And we wan't go home, 'til morn

[gorphon]

this may be totally unrelated and perhaps even (gosh!) considered spam but my above use of the word consumate in relation to grief led me down a tangential path causing me to recall this poem by Bukowski. its another one of my favorite things.

especially the last line. if I could just one line as well as that in my life I could die a happy man.

Consummation Of Grief

Charles Bukowski

I even hear the mountains

the way they laugh

up and down their blue sides

and down in the water

the fish cry

and the water

is their tears.

I listen to the water

on nights I drink away

and the sadness becomes so great

I hear it in my clock

it becomes knobs upon my dresser

it becomes paper on the floor

it becomes a shoehorn

a laundry ticket

it becomes

cigarette smoke

climbing a chapel of dark vines. . .

it matters little

very little love is not so bad

or very little life

what counts

is waiting on walls

I was born for this

I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.