Post by David Nelson Bradsher on May 25, 2008 9:44:36 GMT -5
Refrain
If You Could Read My Mind (by Lightfoot) spun its monologue regrets;
he tapped the beat out (with his right foot) and absorbed the weeping frets
As Gordon crooned—immersed in feeling—with the feeling’s gone chagrin.
Staring down shadows on the ceiling, he reset the song again
to hear the lyrics: trite, bombastic; damn! the imagery was rife
with scenes an artist, wildly drastic, might employ to sketch his life.
He had identified completely with the sentiments he heard
as they resounded, softly, sweetly, and he harbored every word
with the expression of the jilted, and the posture of the proud,
a fortress strong, assailed and tilted, yet defiant and unbowed.
A ghost in chains, a movie actor, and a hero in a book,
a catch of victim's common factor: failure and a rhythmic hook.
He sat and sank into the madness, lost in melancholy rhyme,
and played the song, obsessed with sadness, for the twenty-seventh time.
If You Could Read My Mind (by Lightfoot) spun its monologue regrets;
he tapped the beat out (with his right foot) and absorbed the weeping frets
As Gordon crooned—immersed in feeling—with the feeling’s gone chagrin.
Staring down shadows on the ceiling, he reset the song again
to hear the lyrics: trite, bombastic; damn! the imagery was rife
with scenes an artist, wildly drastic, might employ to sketch his life.
He had identified completely with the sentiments he heard
as they resounded, softly, sweetly, and he harbored every word
with the expression of the jilted, and the posture of the proud,
a fortress strong, assailed and tilted, yet defiant and unbowed.
A ghost in chains, a movie actor, and a hero in a book,
a catch of victim's common factor: failure and a rhythmic hook.
He sat and sank into the madness, lost in melancholy rhyme,
and played the song, obsessed with sadness, for the twenty-seventh time.
