Life by Jim Harrison
I’m not so good at life anymore.
Sometimes I wake up and don’t recognize it.
Houses, cars, furniture, books are a blur
while trees, birds, and horses are fine
and clear. I also understand music
of an ancient variety—pre-ninteenth century.
Where have I been?
Recounting flowers from the train window
between Seville and Granada, also bulls and olive trees.
I couldn’t sleep in Lorca’s room because it was haunted.
Even the wine I carried was haunted.
Spain has never recovered from this murder.
Her nights are full of the red teeth of death.
There were many who joined him. You can’t count,
up and down, birds and flowers at the same time. Art by Rebecca Harp
Recommended listening: The Moon Song - Karen O & Ezra Koenig
Links of the Day: Told You So How Chris McCandless Died: An update to ‘Into the Wild’ Get hypnotised by classic band art in motion Shooting An Elephant by George Orwell