Adrienne Rich - Plaza Street and Flatbush lyrics
[Adrienne Rich - Plaza Street and Flatbush lyrics]
On a notepad on a table
Tagged for the Goodwill the word Brooklyn
On the frayed luggage label
The matchbox cover the name Brooklyn
In steel-cut script on a watermarked form
On a postcard postmarked 1961
The word Brooklyn
On the medal for elocution
On the ashtray with the bridge
The inscription Brooklyn
In the beige notebook
Of the dead student's pride
In her new language
On the union card the love letter
The mortgaged insurance policy
Somewhere it would say, Brooklyn
On the shear of the gull
On the ramp that sweeps
To the great cable-work
On the map of the five boroughs
The death certificate the last phone bill
In the painter's sighting of light unseen
Til now, in Brooklyn
If you had been required to make inventory
Of everything in the apartment
If you had had to list
The acquisitions of a modest life
Punctuated with fevers of shopping
A kind of excitement for her
But also a bandage over bewilderment
And for him, the provider
The bandage of providing for everyone
If you had had to cram the bags
With unworn clothing unused linens
Bought by a woman
Who but just remembered
Being handed through the window
Of a train in Russia
If you had had to haul
The bags to the freight elevator
If you had been forced to sign
A declaration of all
Possessions kept or given away
In all the old apartments
In one building say at Plaza and Flatbush
Or on Eastern Parkway?
Art doesn't keep accounts though artists
Do as they must
To stay alive and tend their work
Art is a register of light
The painter taking her moment
A rift in the clouds " and pulling it out
Mucous srand, hairy rootlet
Sticky clew to the labyrinth
Pulling and pulling
Forever or as long
As this grain of this universe
Will be tested
The painter seizing the light of creation
Giving it back to it's creatures
Headed under the earth
Tagged for the Goodwill the word Brooklyn
On the frayed luggage label
The matchbox cover the name Brooklyn
In steel-cut script on a watermarked form
On a postcard postmarked 1961
The word Brooklyn
On the medal for elocution
On the ashtray with the bridge
The inscription Brooklyn
In the beige notebook
Of the dead student's pride
In her new language
On the union card the love letter
The mortgaged insurance policy
Somewhere it would say, Brooklyn
On the shear of the gull
On the ramp that sweeps
To the great cable-work
On the map of the five boroughs
The death certificate the last phone bill
In the painter's sighting of light unseen
Til now, in Brooklyn
If you had been required to make inventory
Of everything in the apartment
If you had had to list
The acquisitions of a modest life
Punctuated with fevers of shopping
A kind of excitement for her
But also a bandage over bewilderment
And for him, the provider
The bandage of providing for everyone
If you had had to cram the bags
With unworn clothing unused linens
Bought by a woman
Who but just remembered
Being handed through the window
Of a train in Russia
If you had had to haul
The bags to the freight elevator
If you had been forced to sign
A declaration of all
Possessions kept or given away
In all the old apartments
In one building say at Plaza and Flatbush
Or on Eastern Parkway?
Art doesn't keep accounts though artists
Do as they must
To stay alive and tend their work
Art is a register of light
The painter taking her moment
A rift in the clouds " and pulling it out
Mucous srand, hairy rootlet
Sticky clew to the labyrinth
Pulling and pulling
Forever or as long
As this grain of this universe
Will be tested
The painter seizing the light of creation
Giving it back to it's creatures
Headed under the earth