in the middle of my mourning
The year my grandmother died, I had two dreams about her. One before and one after.
In the first dream she was in a nursing home. I don't know if it bears any resemblance to the home she was actually in because I'm sorry to say I never saw it. In the dream, people were pushing carts around, not simply using walkers or wheelchairs but pushing metal carts, like the kind you seem in dim sum restaurants, on which their own internal organs, grotesquely outside their bodies, were stored, livers, hearts, small intestines. They wandered hallways pushing their own insides around, eyes like black holes.
In the second dream she was on a gravel road outside a church with a group of other older people. They wore purple choral robes and seemed restless in the way a group of people always are before a performance. Her hair was white, eyes blue, and she was smiling. It's time to go inside, someone said. It's time to go inside and sing, Rosie.
sits joy like a happy child
2 comments:
How long have you been writing for Pitchfork? I don't mean to sound rude, but I'm here for the songs, not for dreams.
There aren't many Sixpence tracks with bona-fide harmonies between Leigh and Tess, and this is one of the best. The lyric's pretty great too, and the tone of it makes this a bridge of sorts between their earliest work and the TBM/SNTR material. Then there's that subtle pump organ work...yum.
Post a Comment