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Description
About life: it is rarely this organized.
About your kitchen: it takes basically infinity to get out of this chair,
Across the grey expanse of flooring and out the red front door
And by then I’m already regretting the attempt.
I have to go back and try again in an hour or two.
The beautiful thing is that there are no clocks here.
Everybody’s always late but no one ever notices, because
They don’t have watches either.
About around here: it’s a never ending raucous tea party
But you can always stand up and walk to the window.
Whenever I walk in, you’re standing by the window.
When we walk and take your homegrown medicine on the road
And the door locks behind us,
We all fall in through the window like pale featherless baby birds.
Alone together in the cupped hand of the giant girl swimming,
We swim deep down and the phosphorescence clings to the
Eddies that hang from our toes and our fingers like a purple suede coat.
I have this new thing where I fall in love at the drop of a hat,
Or, in this case, the don of a hat,
A black felt hat with a shapeless rim.
You know who I’m talking about, Daniel Johnston.

No one asks that you be good,
Or walk seven hundred miles on your knees, repenting
Anything; only that you are, still,
And stop quiet by the window sometimes.
No one asks that you shine.
Only that you adore what you do, and honestly.
Show me despair, yours, and I’ll show you mine;
Meanwhile, outside, things will be happening.
Lovers fall in and out of flowerboxes.
Some parts of your heart are aching,
And others are not. Geese from Canada
Are coming away home yet again.
We all fall in and out of windows,
Sometimes.
No one asks that you come in to stay,
Only that you are.

Description
About life: it is rarely this organized.
About your kitchen: it takes basically infinity to get out of this chair,
Across the grey expanse of flooring and out the red front door
And by then I’m already regretting the attempt.
I have to go back and try again in an hour or two.
The beautiful thing is that there are no clocks here.
Everybody’s always late but no one ever notices, because
They don’t have watches either.
About around here: it’s a never ending raucous tea party
But you can always stand up and walk to the window.
Whenever I walk in, you’re standing by the window.
When we walk and take your homegrown medicine on the road
And the door locks behind us,
We all fall in through the window like pale featherless baby birds.
Alone together in the cupped hand of the giant girl swimming,
We swim deep down and the phosphorescence clings to the
Eddies that hang from our toes and our fingers like a purple suede coat.
I have this new thing where I fall in love at the drop of a hat,
Or, in this case, the don of a hat,
A black felt hat with a shapeless rim.
You know who I’m talking about, Daniel Johnston.

No one asks that you be good,
Or walk seven hundred miles on your knees, repenting
Anything; only that you are, still,
And stop quiet by the window sometimes.
No one asks that you shine.
Only that you adore what you do, and honestly.
Show me despair, yours, and I’ll show you mine;
Meanwhile, outside, things will be happening.
Lovers fall in and out of flowerboxes.
Some parts of your heart are aching,
And others are not. Geese from Canada
Are coming away home yet again.
We all fall in and out of windows,
Sometimes.
No one asks that you come in to stay,
Only that you are.