Burning Bridges

December 2005

This is something I wrote fairly aimlessly, as poetry, although it has something of a song verse-chorus structure. Not that the chorus stays the same, but the “burning” sections stick together rhythmically more, and there’s an old Irish melody that fits them. Somehow the less melody I have when writing, the more I’m forced to carry things along with imagery, although with some work I suppose this could be a song. And what’s it about. Oh, I don’t know – journeys, collateral damage, things you do without reasons, and all that jazz. And it’s a little bit, just a little bit, about the Cuyahoga River…

Long, strange, into nowhere
With the mystery of Sanskrit on sandstone
And the air smells of gypsies and blood
Not that we look for them
But the blood keeps for centuries
On the blades of grass for the blades of steel

You’re burning your bridges before you
You’re burning your bridges with incense and myrrh
You’re burning Chicago for steel and glass
But Chicago was burning so long before you were

And a handful of glass beads on the windshield
Before you can wipe it away and you’re drowning
In crystal and chandelier bulbs
Not that we ask for them
But the crystals are products of centuries
Or it’s glass from this Wednesday that’s never been real

But you’re burning your bridges before you
Burning your bridges for tinder and shame
You’re burning down Cleveland for blue river water
But the river was flowing so long before you came

And those tornado spirals in deep river water
And hurricanes carved into deep forest maple
And you wipe it all off with a scarlet bandanna
With the dust and dandelions
Not that they grow here
But they blow in the wind over centuries
Just like we do

And we’re burning our bridges behind us
We’ve been burning our bridges to keep ourselves home
We’re burning a path to the deep ocean water
But the waves have been crashing since long before we came to roam.