I found the world in a Paul Simon songbook, walked the plank of
imagery, lost my innocence in the metonymy; heard the chiming of anew age in the illumination of alliteration; felt like an assonance in the silent alienation; strung out in a dangling conversation, I graduated “ Mrs Robinson '' who held me ' homeward bound '. Rosemary was sage, hazy in the shade of winter thyme Could I have been ' so hard to please '? I read each line of every lyric and slept between the rhymes, in a world of harmony and cacophony, I forged my silent soliloquy and faked it at the Human zoo. I found the world in Simon's songbook...
Words by Trev Teasdel
No comments:
Post a Comment