Oh Henry Hudson
Oh sacred parking lots.
Cheers to broadband lengths
And fruit that’s rot.
From shattered hearts
And broken dreams,
To little girls
With tambourines.
To soft end rhymes
And friendly ghosts
At the edge of the height
You can feel in your throat.
A coat of arms,
A crystal ball
A volcano in a puddle—
That fateful fall.
A beam of light,
A speckled cat,
A dream—you wake
To never go back.
A hole in the wall,
A rip in a boot,
The phantom of showbiz,
The business of youth.
The circle of life,
The square of deception,
The inopportune
And unplanned erection.
The stroke of four,
The key of E,
The keeper of scores—
Queen of all she sees.
The fruit of the womb,
As sharp as a bat,
As quick as a secret
That’s tumbling fast—
Down the mountain of Eden,
Through the alcove of Jack,
The charity of love
& the stepped-upon crack.
Weather beans talk or not—
A seed has been planted.
How hard that you fought,
How soft that you landed.
How strange it’s to come
To the end of the verse
So I hail Henry Hudson
& end with the first.
