Joanna Newsom – Emily [pt 1] (11.16.06)

(5a of 10) Live @ the First Unitarian Church Sanctuary – Philadelphia, PA November 16th, 2006 The meadowlark and the chim-choo-ree and the sparrow Set to the sky in a flying spree, for the sport over the pharaoh A little while later the Pharisees dragged comb through the meadow Do you remember what they called up to you and me, in our window? There is a rusty light on the pines tonight Sun pouring wine, lord, or marrow Down into the bones of the birches And the spires of the churches Jutting out from the shadows The yoke, and the axe, and the old smokestacks and the bale and the barrow And everything sloped like it was dragged from a rope In the mouth of the south below We’ve seen those mountains kneeling, felten and grey We thought our very hearts would up and melt away From that snow in the nighttime Just going And going And the stirring of wind chimes In the morning In the morning Helps me find my way back in From the place where I have been And, Emily – I saw you last night by the river I dreamed you were skipping little stones across the surface of the water Frowning at the angle where they were lost, and slipped under forever In a mud-cloud, mica-spangled, like the sky’d been breathing on a mirror Anyhow – I sat by your side, by the water You taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger Thoough all I knew of the rote universe were those Pleiades loosed in December I promised you I’d set them to verse so I’d always remember

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