Poem for Monday

Pink Moon

-Nick Drake

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It's a pink moon
Hey, it's a pink moon
It's a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon.
It's a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon.
I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It's a pink moon
Yeah, it's a pink moon


Paintings are from my Garden Stains series seen here.

Here's a great article

about Nick Drake written by

my brother-in-law,

TJ McGrath

Poem for Monday

no. 92
-Barbara Schweitzer
 
Have you seen how colors boast distinctions?
Greens shout themselves into gay petals.
Tulips bend over backwards, bleeding tinctures
into desiccated snowdrops, metal-
toned like the earth itself. Past tense flowers
will bloom to death, and here, spring erupts, not
kind, but bossy in that way of empowered
voices just finding air, or –  love –  wobbly
as peonies at first, but then outstretching.
But, oh, let’s not compare love to spring again.
Fertility must have other more fetching
images to hold. Layers of rock, sane
thoughts, beach sand, gray horizons, purple, pink?
There is solidness to love, too, I think.
Photo of Providence Parking Lot Wall by Paul Clancy