the onward march of mind and spirit searching. then: your mind abolished. people remembering for you. in her book of dreams, in his book. your book floating down the missouri river, caught in the current, sucked under. now you're in the here, the hole that ripped in living. as if a birdsong without song. where is love, can it be this thing that simply grows insistently louder? stealing the arc of a white wing? riding like foam on the river of pity? you have said before that poetry can kill the god of sadness. now you think the god should live because we can be neither wholly here nor disappear: the open hand: every prisoner: healed the hole that ripped in living. tell them yourself who you are so that your name can be written in her book of dreams, in his book. and yours brought from the river loose at the covers, pages famished. the spine a reedy whisper. how deep the water of the watching is.

"the spine is bound to last a life
tough enough to take the pounding
pages made of days of open hand"

Just saw the video clip for this. Pretty wild. Captivating. Somewhat psychedelic. I'm sure anyone on LSD or mescaline would have an enhanced appreciation of this video, and could probably watch it over & over all night long.

The entire video segment library is a great addition to the website and i'd encourage all towies to check it out.

Gosh, I'm surprised there are not more postings about this song. Having only recently "discovered" suzanne Vega, I'm really surprised that this single (I presume) wasn't even more successful than it appears to have been. Does anyone know the history of this?

The single actually reached a pretty high position in the US Modern Rock chart, something like 10 or 9, I think. It failed to do anything else, I think. Suzanne tried to write a hit, and it failed in her eyes. She doesn't play the song live, either.

It makes me sad, it's a very good song. I hope Suzanne will revamp it and play it live. This year.

Spikes

Would be fun to hear to a live arrangement. Nice tune.

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The wind kicks up with the smell of rain
The kids are gone but the souls remain