Friday, October 08, 2004

Well, your railroad gate, you know I just can't jump it
Sometimes it gets so hard, you see
I'm just sitting here beating on my trumpet
With all these promises you left for me
But where are you tonight, sweet Marie?

Well, I waited for you when I was half sick
Yes, I waited for you when you hated me
Well, I waited for you inside of the frozen traffic
When you knew I had some other place to be
Now, where are you tonight, sweet Marie?

Well, anybody can be just like me, obviously
But then, now again, not too many can be like you, fortunately. --

Bob Dylan

Wednesday, October 06, 2004


It's true. Outrageously plain as day. The world
Is full of crazy women with their wild hair
And voices like a wounded sow's, breaking
The crockery, flailing their little fists. Raped
By their fathers, raped by their uncles, raped
By their brothers. Humiliated by their mothers,
Betrayed by their lovers, beaten and excoriated
By their husbands, reviled by their children. Can God,
Even in his despicable remoteness, blame them?
Which means that the world is equally full of
Crazy men. Tell me, does anyone around here
Really believe this life is really worth living?

-- Hayden Carruth