/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.21691915]

Time passed hard,
and the task was the hardest thing she'd ever do.
But she forgot,
the moment she saw you.

So it would seem to be true:
when cruel birth debases, we forget.
When cruel death debases,
we believe it erases all the rest
that precedes.

But stand brave, life-liver,
bleeding out your days
in the river of time.
Stand brave:
time moves both ways,

in the nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating
joy of life;
the nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating
joy of life.

The moment of your greatest joy sustains:
not axe nor hammer,
tumor, tremor,
can take it away, and it remains.
It remains.

And it pains me to say, I was wrong.
Love is not a symptom of time.
Time is just a symptom of love

(and of the nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating
joy of life;
the nullifying, defeating, negating, repeating
joy of life).

Hardly seen, hardly felt—
deep down where your fight is waiting,
down 'till the light in your eyes is fading:
joy of life.
Where I know that you can yield, when it comes down to it;
bow like the field when the wind combs through it:
joy of life.
And every little gust that chances through
will dance in the dust of me and you,
with joy-of-life.
And in our perfect secret-keeping:
One ear of corn,
in silent, reaping
joy of life.

Joy! Again, around—a pause, a sound—a song:
a way a lone a last a loved a long.
A cave, a grave, a day: arise, ascend.
(Areion, Rharian, go free and graze. Amen.)

A shore, a tide, unmoored—a sight, abroad:
A dawn, unmarked, undone, undarked (a god).
No time. No flock. No chime, no clock. No end.
White star, white ship—Nightjar, transmit: transcend!

White star, white ship—Nightjar, transmit: transcend!
White star, white ship—Nightjar, transmit: transcend!
White star, white ship—Nightjar, transmit: trans…

[Anonymous No.21691942]

…sending the first scouts over,
back from the place beyond the dawn:
Horse, bear your broken soldier,
eyes frozen wide at what went on.

And Time, in our camp, is moving
as you’d anticipate it to.
But what is this sample proving?
Anecdotes cannot say what Time may do.

I kid with Rufous Nightjar,
when our men are all asleep:
"It ain’t about how rare you are,
but how hard you are to see.
Take, you and me—"

“When are you from?” said he,
in our blind of winter leaves,
as we sighted out their fliers
in the grayscale of the night
fumbled on the bare ground
to bury round landmines,
while the dew lay down and dried.

We signal Private Poorwill, when morning starts to loom:
“Pull up from your dive!”
till we hear the telltale Boom,
too soon—
hotdogging loon, caught there
like a shard of mirror in the moon!

Now they’ve stopped giving orders,
but I follow anyway,
laying in our state of torpor,
waiting out the day
while the dew burns away.

Rushing, tearing, speeding home:
bound to a wheel that is not my own,
where round every bend I long to see
temporal infidelity.

And all along the road, the lights stream by.
I want to go where the dew won't dry.
I want to go where the light won’t bend—
far as the eye may reach—nor end.

But inasmuch as that light is loaned,
insofar as we’ve borrowed bones,
must every debt now be repaid
in star-spotted, sickle-winged night raids,
while we sing to the garden, and we sing to the stars,
and we sing in the meantime,
wherever you are?

In the folds and the branches,
somewhere, out there,
I was only just born into open air.
Now hush, little babe.
You don’t want to be
down in the trenches,
remembering with me,

where you will not mark my leaving,
and you will not hear my parting song.
Nor is there cause for grieving.
Nor is there cause for carrying on.

—and daughter, when you are able,
come down and join! The kettle's on,
and your family's round the table.
Will you come down, before the sun is gone?

[Anonymous No.21691974]

Learned about Joanna Newsom thanks to /lit/ and now she’s one of my favorite artists. If you’ve not heard, I’d recommend giving Ys a listen.

[Anonymous No.21693257]

>Do you know what this is son?
>This is the panopticon
Make Hay is a good one too. In terms of albums, it's Have One On Me and Drivers but a good bit of Milk Eyed is catchy as fuck.
Incredibly talented song writer. Worst part is waiting for a new album.

[Anonymous No.21693923]

man her voice is such a hard filter

[Anonymous No.21694771]

>For liberties taken, my apologies to Messrs. Smith, Shelley, Streeton, Washington, V. Gogh, and Joyce.
What did she mean by this?

[Anonymous No.21694930]

>>21693923
The later two albums don't feature the squeakiness because she rekt her vocal chords. Try songs like Occident, You and me Bess, Waltz of the 101st airborne, & You Will not take my heart alive.
Make Hay is a good one, and technically her most recent song but it does have a tad bit of squeaky voice.