Book of Longing
#CanadianWriters
Many men have loved the bells you fastened to the rein, and everyone who wanted you they found what they will always w… Your beauty lost to you yourself
It’s true that all the men you kne… who said they were through with de… Every time you gave them shelter I know that kind of man It’s hard to hold the hand of anyo…
The birds they sang at the break of day Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what
I saw you this morning. You were moving so fast. Can’t seem to loosen my grip On the past. And I miss you so much.
Come over to the window, my little… I’d like to try to read your palm. I used to think I was some kind o… before I let you take me home. Now so long, Marianne, it’s time…
Suddenly the night has grown colde… The god of love preparing to depar… Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder, They slip between the sentries of… Upheld by the simplicities of plea…
I loved you in the morning, our ki… your hair upon the pillow like a s… yes, many loved before us, I know… in city and in forest they smiled… but now it’s come to distances and…
Give me back my broken night my mirrored room, my secret life it’s lonely here, there’s no one left to torture Give me absolute control
I went down to the place Where I knew she lay waiting Under the marble and the snow I said, Mother I’m frightened The thunder and the lightning
Dance me to your beauty with a bur… Dance me through the panic 'til I… Lift me like an olive branch and b… Dance me to the end of love Dance me to the end of love
If you want a lover I’ll do anything you ask me to And if you want another kind of lo… I’ll wear a mask for you If you want a partner
Baby, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been waiting night and day. I didn’t see the time, I waited half my life away. There were lots of invitations
It’s four in the morning, the end… I’m writing you now just to see if… New York is cold, but I like wher… There’s music on Clinton Street a… I hear that you’re building your l…
Out of the thousands who are known or want to be known… maybe one or two are genuine and the rest are fakes, hanging around the sacred precinct…
Like a bird on the wire Like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way to be free Like a worm on a hook Like a knight from some old-fashio…