"PS-400 Old Poets- As Though You've Touched" by Numi Who

License $25

Album $5

words derived from 'The Bridge' by Hart Crane ver. as_though_you've_touched_chorus_play

lyricist instrumentalist soloist satirist humorist improvisationalist popite classic rocker poetryist electronicist progressivist acousticker pioneerionator contemporaryist electronic music mannheimie singer song writerer originalicist classicalister comedyiker vocalaloquist com posererie uniquer mult instrumentalist synthesizerismistytitian avant gardist game music mukiester neo classyciscicist pianerist cross genre dresser

Numi Who

I now create music so people can spend time with better company.

Cover Songs on Soundclick: https://www.soundclick.com/numiwhocreativecovers Writing: https://allpoetry.com/Mr._Numi_Who- Books: Numi Who? on Amazon (books) Art: http://wbiro.deviantart.com Early Art: http://www.flickr.com/photos/38154648@N00 Music Videos: http://www.youtube.com/user/wbiro Self-made Music Catalog (to 2016): http://numi-imagination-creations.me/01-art-catalog/wbiro_artistic_catalog_1967-2016_update_34.html Original Music on Soundcloud (more complete list there): https://soundcloud.com/wbiro Cover Songs on Soundcloud (more complete list there): https://soundcloud.com/user-288568536

Song Info

Genre

Acoustic • Acoustic Folk

Charts

Peak #143

Peak in subgenre #19

Author

words: Hart Crane and wbiro; music: wbiro

Rights

wbiro

Uploaded

September 11, 2011

Track Files

MP3

MP3 7.3 MB • 192 kbps • 5:19

Story behind the song

a poetry book improv

Lyrics

As though you've touched hands
with some ancient god,
little while, gaze absently,
we know;
and on deep the river with them
winding on
wispers ahead
and slip once more,
look, see,
the sheriff, breakman, and authority,
they jump your pants
and crunch another quid!

Born pioneers
in times despite
tributaries to an ancient flow;
they win no frontier
on their wayward lives,
but drift in stillness
as from Jordan's jaw.
Well, not here, in past the sea,
even as the stone
is not more hushed
about gravity,
but slow as not to take,
sliding cold, not long,
whose eyes were buried long ago
the river spreading, flows,
and spreads your dreams.
Your dreams!
more tribute

And roots surrender
down a mooring clear,
the Mississippi drinks the gardens there,
no warying passion;
under towed sunlight,
the blazoned surface drags
and chrysandlings fall
in lengthening vines,
patients,
and you shall reach the biding light.
Here to sell those boys,
the freighted floor
from past the city store.
farmer's dale.
a jungle crate.

derived from 'The Bridge' by Hart Crane

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