Saint Memory Speaking – Lyrics in Description

Saint Memory (the full version) I am the basement And the cellar door The upside-down Attic stairs The plaster crust In the banded lathe The looming Disaster That only god could made I am a cloud of dust The crunch of ice Underneath our feet On a forced retreat From ambush and defeat; I am the furnace That almost blew The windows that rattled The frost ferns On the peeling mullions & unforgiving sills I am the tears of onions I am the sour & the sweet; I am the pills Mom swallowed I am the fish and the gills I am full of shit and hollow I am a time bomb in a capsule I am the secret wish that thrills I am Theo Frey enraptured I am just the other day; I am the thermostat We cannot touch The pewter pot, the painted plate All mementoes on the hutch I am your ally and your crutch I am made of all these things The bed, the bath – the furnishings The overstuffed chair & the ottoman where We first sensed Her, everywhere I am the long-looped Drooping curtains I am whatever we dare Under certain circumstances I am flirtatious dancers And I am the pole Round which She twists her trade I am the boogers you hid Under metal desks in second grade And the hole Where sewage goes ('Round which the richest Crabgrass grows); I am the socks and shoes And underwear The boots, the brace The old bookcase I am the cake & All confections Able baker's use I am everything With no direction We think we knew I am all that we eschew As well the things We'll never see and do I am what we never owned And all we ever wanted That wasn't in the home I am the darkest hours Our haunted Soul Has not forgotten; I am the dry, the wet The sty in the eye The first pet that died I am whatever's rotten The truth in every lie; I am the heartbeat With its diamond totem I am the stark relief Of a shocking yellow gingko In late Autumn; I am a fellow fallen leaf Scuttling cancrizans Across a naked street; The landscapes painted By the Barbizons Who found belief in observed things I am the lowest of low As well the creme d'elite; I am the roof peak And the pointless Pointed bricks that Constitute the chimney In disuse Too, I am the Nabisco Brand antenna Strapped to the smokeless flue Abused by weathers we once knew; I am Satellite TV I am the cricket And the Jiminy I am the frequency I am the delinquency I am whatever We can recall With any decency I am you And you are me We are all that's left; A whorl of impressions Sensations sans intentions A map bereft The palimpsest And topography We are the hagiography Of Saint Memory.