02-09-2017, 12:46 AM
Latest revision:
"Karl Karl Karl" the crow caws
From its perch on a log outside my window.
It is April 2005 and I have yet to propose.
Again "Karl Karl Karl" the crow caws from the log floating by my window as the spring thaw floods the muddy river. It swells and surrounds the shotgun shack I built for us.
I am young and strong and defiant. A modern Ulysses, polytropos without a beard. Even Mother Nature's wrath for building on her river's bed seems a mere nuisance. I can rescue my fair maiden, my damsel, my waif, my wife, where all have failed: the doctors, her mother, her father, even God himself.
"Karl! Karl! Karl!" the crow caws outside my window, his black eyes screaming at me, head cocked to one side.
But still I sleep. And moonlight dances on the surging river rising higher and higher. The water lapping against the cedar shakes, making its way into my dreams.
Day breaks and I roll out of bed to find water at my feet, the window closed. I look for my black eyed tormentor I see nothing but water surrounding the house.
I am inundated.
And for a brief moment I almost heed the warning.
Maybe I understand but then decide to forget.
I knew who he was and what happened.
I knew he was dead.
I knew it was because of her and what she had done to him.
And there is no mistake the crow cried "Karl!"
like some Shakespeare ghost with prophetic, tragic revelations.
Tragic because it makes no difference, the players will make the same decisions every time.
All the while the gallery watches, hoping that it will be different this time around.
A cockney voice down front cries "Don't do it!" Another "It's a trap!"
But the players will make the same decisions every time.
Her lilting voice come-hithers me
to bed and sweet perfume
Anon I said and walked toward
this siren song, my doom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Original:
"Karl Karl Karl" the crow caws
From its perch on a log outside my window.
It was April 2005 and I had yet to propose.
Again "Karl Karl Karl!" the crow cawed from the log floating by my window as the spring thaw flooded the muddy river. It swelled and surrounded the shotgun shack I built for us.
I was young and strong and defiant. I stood a modern Ulysses, polytropos without a beard. Even Mother Nature's wrath for building on her river's bed seemed a mere nuisance. Old lady across the street said, it had been over the eaves in '68 and Grandma lost her mind in '84. I'd row my dented Jon boat a quarter mile to my Continental on the berm. I could rescue my fair maiden, my damsel, my waif, my wife, where all had failed: the doctors, her mother, her father, even God himself.
"Karl! Karl! Karl!" the crow caws outside my window, his black eyes screaming at me, head cocked to one side.
But still I sleep. And moonlight dances on the surging river rising higher and higher. It does. The water lapping gently against the cedar shakes, making their way into my dreams.
as day breaks and I roll out of bed to find water at my feet, the window closed. I look out for my black eyed tormentor I see nothing but water surrounding the house.
I am inundated. Echoing in my ears "Karl!"
And for a moment there I almost get it. Maybe I did and just didn't want to.
But the warning "Karl Karl Karl!" went unheeded.
I knew who he was and what happened. I knew he was dead. I knew it was because of her and what she had done to him.
And there was no mistake in my mind that the crow cried
"Karl! Karl! Karl!"
Like some Shakespeare ghost, pleading that I run away and save myself from this doom. A slow train wreck that everyone in the audience has seen coming for four hundred years.
A lilting voice come-hithers me
to bed and sweet perfume
Anon I said and walked toward
this siren song, my doom.
"Karl Karl Karl" the crow caws
From its perch on a log outside my window.
It is April 2005 and I have yet to propose.
Again "Karl Karl Karl" the crow caws from the log floating by my window as the spring thaw floods the muddy river. It swells and surrounds the shotgun shack I built for us.
I am young and strong and defiant. A modern Ulysses, polytropos without a beard. Even Mother Nature's wrath for building on her river's bed seems a mere nuisance. I can rescue my fair maiden, my damsel, my waif, my wife, where all have failed: the doctors, her mother, her father, even God himself.
"Karl! Karl! Karl!" the crow caws outside my window, his black eyes screaming at me, head cocked to one side.
But still I sleep. And moonlight dances on the surging river rising higher and higher. The water lapping against the cedar shakes, making its way into my dreams.
Day breaks and I roll out of bed to find water at my feet, the window closed. I look for my black eyed tormentor I see nothing but water surrounding the house.
I am inundated.
And for a brief moment I almost heed the warning.
Maybe I understand but then decide to forget.
I knew who he was and what happened.
I knew he was dead.
I knew it was because of her and what she had done to him.
And there is no mistake the crow cried "Karl!"
like some Shakespeare ghost with prophetic, tragic revelations.
Tragic because it makes no difference, the players will make the same decisions every time.
All the while the gallery watches, hoping that it will be different this time around.
A cockney voice down front cries "Don't do it!" Another "It's a trap!"
But the players will make the same decisions every time.
Her lilting voice come-hithers me
to bed and sweet perfume
Anon I said and walked toward
this siren song, my doom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Original:
"Karl Karl Karl" the crow caws
From its perch on a log outside my window.
It was April 2005 and I had yet to propose.
Again "Karl Karl Karl!" the crow cawed from the log floating by my window as the spring thaw flooded the muddy river. It swelled and surrounded the shotgun shack I built for us.
I was young and strong and defiant. I stood a modern Ulysses, polytropos without a beard. Even Mother Nature's wrath for building on her river's bed seemed a mere nuisance. Old lady across the street said, it had been over the eaves in '68 and Grandma lost her mind in '84. I'd row my dented Jon boat a quarter mile to my Continental on the berm. I could rescue my fair maiden, my damsel, my waif, my wife, where all had failed: the doctors, her mother, her father, even God himself.
"Karl! Karl! Karl!" the crow caws outside my window, his black eyes screaming at me, head cocked to one side.
But still I sleep. And moonlight dances on the surging river rising higher and higher. It does. The water lapping gently against the cedar shakes, making their way into my dreams.
as day breaks and I roll out of bed to find water at my feet, the window closed. I look out for my black eyed tormentor I see nothing but water surrounding the house.
I am inundated. Echoing in my ears "Karl!"
And for a moment there I almost get it. Maybe I did and just didn't want to.
But the warning "Karl Karl Karl!" went unheeded.
I knew who he was and what happened. I knew he was dead. I knew it was because of her and what she had done to him.
And there was no mistake in my mind that the crow cried
"Karl! Karl! Karl!"
Like some Shakespeare ghost, pleading that I run away and save myself from this doom. A slow train wreck that everyone in the audience has seen coming for four hundred years.
A lilting voice come-hithers me
to bed and sweet perfume
Anon I said and walked toward
this siren song, my doom.