This afternoon I came upon this riff from 2014. I find myself touched by how the song changes and doesn’t change, both at the same time. Both the old and the new, the new and the old. *As Leonard would say: the only song I ever had.

My little life is tired
It wants to lie down in the green pastures
of that half remembered psalm

It wants to lie in a slipstream
of clear water and be
Washed
Out to sea

My ramshackle apologies for poems
Notwithstanding
And my postcards from the window ledge
That catch the odd joke
As they fall
Don’t always save me

My little life is tired now

My little prayers
The useless rage
My hopeless hopes
The scratched out page
All the tattered remnants
Of the misremembered
And revised
Are gathered at my bedside now
To gently close my eyes

I need to put my head down
I need to float, or rest,
On this raft of hungry words
This lusting after death