Father On A Couch

[kingtycoon]

Those cheery pipes — he winter-song the groaning pleasure & the abolition of cold.  

Comes at last & finally the grimmest part of the season where dawn recommits itself as final & finally gorgeous — a break from ended things.  Here's a song concerning that, concerning crusts of the miraculous sodden & fading away.  Here's the sun look & remember in your core of self — occupied by worlds within & the trick of language that says forget — (that sunrise is mundane & nothing is so prosaic as the sun — which makes all the things you think about or know).  Sun & yawn another rise sun & trill again the little vocalized blessing here there's nothing one can deem great — only moments accumulating.  Here there's the bland rigor of events that don't delight — that are endured — moments accumulated into life-  life compounded by disinterest into circumstance & the sodden crust of weather overlayed.