Category Archives: poetry

The Geese of Beverly Road

jordan-river-parkway-geese

We’ll take ourselves out in the street
And wear the blood in our cheeks like red roses
We’ll go from car to sleeping car and whisper in their sleeping ears
We were here, we were here
We’ll set off the geese of Beverly Road

Hey love, we’ll get away with it
We’ll run like we’re awesome, totally genius
Hey love, we’ll get away with it
We’ll run like we’re awesome

We won’t be disappointed
We’ll fight like girls for our place at the table
Our room on the floor
We’ll set off the geese of Beverly Road

Hey love, we’ll get away with it
We’ll run like we’re awesome, totally genius
Hey love, we’ll get away with it
We’ll run like we’re awesome

We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world

We’re drunk and sparking, our legs are open
Our hands are covered in cake
But I swear we didn’t have any
I swear we didn’t have any

Hey, love, we’ll get away with it
We’ll run like we’re awesome, totally genius
Hey, love, we’ll get away with it
We’ll run like we’re awesome

We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world

Oh, come, come be my waitress and serve me tonight
Serve me the sky tonight
Oh, come, come be my waitress and serve me tonight
Serve me the sky with a big slice of lemon

We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world
We’re the heirs to the glimmering world

The Geese of Beverly Road (The National)

Hope is The Thing With Feathers

emily dickinson

BY EMILY DICKINSON

“Hope” is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops – at all
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm
I’ve heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest Sea
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.