leonard cohenLet language play its tricks

Don’t bore us with your hands

Don’t rattle on about what you know

Don’t try to understand


Patrick Kavanagh or Leonard Cohen

Don’t fret about their rhymes

They inherited a lyric deck

Of hearts, jokers, clubs, signs


That spades beguile the natty bastards

Who deal diamonds & hold the cards

Let’s sing of taters, scabs, & heather

Tongues hungry for love & words


And if you’re with me, you must be a poet

If you’re with me, you’re along for the ride

You don’t have to agree with Pat or me

But from Leonard you cannot hide


Everybody knows his dice are loaded

The bleedin’ cracks just let light in

Like birds on a wire outside his tower

All we can do is sing till the end


And we know we know nothin’ so we fake it

We make it up as we go along

And if we’re lucky there’s a piano playin’

In our heart when we sing our song


for Alyson Jay & “Her Man”



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