My heart became a drunken runt

On the day i sunk in this shunt

To tap me clean

Of all the wonder

And the sorrow I have seen

Since I left my home:

My home on the old Milk Lake

Where the darkness does fall so fast

It feels like some kind of mistake

(Just like they told you it would;

just like the Tulgeywood).

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When i came into my land

I did not understand:

Neither dry rot, nor the burn pile

Nor the bark-beetle, nor the dry well,

Nor the black bear.

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But there is another,

who is a little older

When I broke my bone,

he carried me up from the riverside

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To spend my life

in spitting distance,

of the love that I have known,

I must stay here, in an endless eventide.

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And if you come and see me

you will upset the order.

You cannot come and see me,

For I set myself apart.

But when you come and see me,

in California

you cross the border of my heart.

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Well, I have sown untidy furrows

across my soul,

but I am still a coward,

content to see my garden grow

so sweet & full

of someone else's flowers.

But sometimes

I can almost feel the power.

Sometimes I am so in love with you

(like a little clock

that trembles on the edge of the hour,

only ever calling out "Cuckoo, cuckoo")

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When I called you,

you, little one

in a bad way,

did you love me?

Do you spite me?

Time will tell if I can be well,

and rise to meet you rightly.

While, moving across my land,

brandishing themselves

like a burning branch,

adce the tallow-colored,

wall-eyed deer,

quiet as gondoliers,

while I wait all night, for you,

in California,

watching the fox pick off my goldfish

from their sorry, golden state-

and I am no longer afraid

of anything, save

the life that, here, awaits.

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I don't belong to anyone.

My heart is heavy as an oil drum.

I don't want to be alone.

My heart is yellow as an ear of corn,

and I have torn my soul apart, from

pulling artlessly with fool commands.

Some nights

I just never go to sleep at all,

and I stand,

shaking in the doorway like a sentinel,

all alone,

bracing like the bow upon a ship,

and fully abandoning

any thought of anywhere

but home,

my home.

Sometimes I can almost feel the power.

And I do love you.

Is it only timing,

that has made it such a dark hour,

only ever chiming out,

"Cuckoo, cuckoo"?

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Cu-ckoo, cu-ckoo, koo, ha-a, ha-hour, ha-a, ha-a

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My heart, I wear you down, I know

Gotta think straight,

Keep a clean plate;

keep from wearing down.

If I lose my head

Just where am I going to lay it?

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(For it has half-ruined me,

to be hanging around,

here, among the Daphne,

blooming out the big brown;

I am native to it, but I'm overgrown.

I am choked my roots

on the earth, as rich as roe,

here,

down in California)

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