I really just love the way this song acknowledges the smallness of a single person, while simultaneously acknowledging how large sorrow can feel to someone. This contrast when compared to the immensity of things like the moon and the mountains is just beautiful. All I can picture is a man out in the woods during the winter, contemplating his problems while singing to moon. It’s really a beautiful image and a beautiful song.
Moon, I already know I’m small on the ground. I roll around and feel menacing mountains and all depths of sorrow dwarf me, all towering terrors of mine to cower below. I know, I know, I know already.
So don’t look at me like that and then duck behind clouds. I know I’m small and that I have no idea. I know, I know, I know. Let me be dumb again, let food drip off my chin, let me think you’re a light. Please, please let me sleep through the night. And the wind, let me close eyes.
“I’m miserable with you. I’m more miserable without you. A states length away from you. I miss you. You know that I miss you. I spend more time missing you than kissing you, because I’m a states length away from you.”—Lemuria
A garden of mouthings. Purple, scarlet-speckled, black The great corollas dilate, peeling back their silks. Their musk encroaches, circle after circle, A well of scents almost too dense to breathe in. Hieratical in your frock coat, maestro of the bees, You move among the many-breasted hives,
My heart under your foot, sister of a stone.
Trumpet-throats open to the beaks of birds. The Golden Rain Tree drips its powders down. In these little boudoirs streaked with orange and red The anthers nod their heads, potent as kings To father dynasties. The air is rich. Here is a queenship no mother can contest —-
A fruit that’s death to taste: dark flesh, dark parings.
In burrows narrow as a finger, solitary bees Keep house among the grasses. Kneeling down I set my eyes to a hole-mouth and meet an eye Round, green, disconsolate as a tear. Father, bridegroom, in this Easter egg Under the coronal of sugar roses
“I told you last night you gave me butterflies. You surprise me with new cocoons every time they start to fly. I instantly felt like an idiot, embarrassed of the person controlling my mouth. My mouth it’s always in a melee, figuring out how as it talks. Your response was comforting. I guess I gave you butterflies too.”—Lemuria
David:Housewives of Atlanta is on at work...What the fuck is this show?
Me:Ridiculous. Insane. Hilarious.
David:From the little I saw, it is a show about a group of synthetic people created by scientists who are released in Atlanta and trying to learn to be real people. It all goes horribly wrong when they are given metric fucktons of money. Now it is a wacky comedy shot Mocumentary style.