I posted this on my blog last month...don't know if you ever saw it, but I know you will enjoy it. I love LH, too.
CMK
Muses Are Never Quiet (for CF-M)
I woke up looking for my old muses, two women, one silently plotting her return, the other gone to repose. Woke up, mouth drenched with the need to sing them back.
This morning I needed Lauryn Hill, Ready or not, here I come you can’t hide, gonna find you and make you want me. Tonight I need Nina Simone, Black is the color of my true love’s hair…
And I get a reminder by mail that these muses aren’t quiet, they’re always on, humming subsonic, and if I listen carefully, I’ll still be able to hear Nina’s rings tapping on the piano keys, Lauryn do-woppin’ on a summer NYC corner afternoon, better than a Supreme.
I turn out the lights, match strike flame shimmer dancing in summer heat, like Mississippi (goddamn). Candle wax conjuring, bringing those women back into my life, those songs filling me with these words, the admonition to move forward, and look back only when I need reminding why I wrote this in the first place.
Even now, my mouth is wet, my soul singing to itself.
1 comment:
Ayo,
I posted this on my blog last month...don't know if you ever saw it, but I know you will enjoy it. I love LH, too.
CMK
Muses Are Never Quiet (for CF-M)
I woke up looking for my old muses,
two women, one silently plotting
her return, the other gone to repose.
Woke up, mouth drenched
with the need to sing them back.
This morning I needed Lauryn Hill,
Ready or not, here I come
you can’t hide, gonna find you
and make you want me.
Tonight I need Nina Simone,
Black is the color
of my true love’s hair…
And I get a reminder by mail
that these muses aren’t quiet,
they’re always on,
humming subsonic,
and if I listen carefully,
I’ll still be able to hear Nina’s
rings tapping on the piano keys,
Lauryn do-woppin’ on a summer
NYC corner afternoon, better
than a Supreme.
I turn out the lights, match strike
flame shimmer dancing in summer heat,
like Mississippi (goddamn).
Candle wax conjuring,
bringing those women back
into my life, those songs
filling me with these words,
the admonition to move forward,
and look back only when
I need reminding why I
wrote this in the first place.
Even now, my mouth is wet,
my soul singing to itself.
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