tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post5848751738623983383..comments2024-01-28T03:56:39.351-08:00Comments on TOM CLARK: Morning GloryUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-36389641174198475272018-07-15T22:22:22.150-07:002018-07-15T22:22:22.150-07:00I read Buckley when he was younger lived near a ho...I read Buckley when he was younger lived near a hobo camp. And that the song means that the hobo was offered respite by the man in the house but rejectef the offer as he viewed it as pretentious. Makes sense guitarslahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13717664940190117434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-18242687937277187782015-12-28T07:50:46.170-08:002015-12-28T07:50:46.170-08:00Well for me the hobo is a metaphor for ‘every man’...Well for me the hobo is a metaphor for ‘every man’ and the ‘fleeting house’ is as it says a transient or short lived dwelling place. How easily any one of us can lose everything we have, our house our home our loved ones and all our possessions and we then become that hobo, an ancient fear to be feared indeed. <br />Don’t take anything for granted, therefore but by the grace of god go I.Alan Walshhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10769258314767766728noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-37213393596005253992012-07-29T08:20:11.600-07:002012-07-29T08:20:11.600-07:00Shakespeare: Sonnet 146
Poor soul, the centre of ...Shakespeare: Sonnet 146<br /><br />Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,<br />[Feeding] these rebel pow’rs that thee array,<br />Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,<br />Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?<br />Why so large cost, having so short a lease,<br />Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?<br />Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,<br />Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?<br />Then, soul, live thou upon thy servants’ loss,<br />And let that pine to aggravate thy store;<br />Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;<br />Within be fed, without be rich no more:<br /> So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,<br /> And death once dead, there's no more dying then.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-9531755272359102832012-07-29T05:17:14.183-07:002012-07-29T05:17:14.183-07:00Larry,
This generous comment adds to our apprecia...Larry,<br /><br />This generous comment adds to our appreciation and understanding of your great song; for both song and comment, many, many thanks.<br /><br />For as long as there are hobos, rain and night candles in fleeting houses...<br /><br /><a href="http://tomclarkblog.blogspot.com/2012/07/larry-beckett-second-avenue.html" rel="nofollow">Larry Beckett: Second Avenue</a>TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-32592144341550952332012-07-28T17:22:22.173-07:002012-07-28T17:22:22.173-07:00I read your as always luminous remarks on my old s...I read your as always luminous remarks on my old song Morning Glory, with such pleasure. Unlike most of my other songs written young, that had some yugen: mystery and depth. <br /><br />In later years, I saw that I had adapted the enigmatic image of the fleeting house from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 146:<br /><br />Why so large cost, having so short a lease,<br />Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?<br /><br />In this reading, the fleeting house is the body, home to the spirit, and by extension, it’s a way of living, always shifting, in a world of flux. This gives some urgency to his asking for tales of time, and pain to their refusal.<br /><br />Thank you for your eloquence. <br /><br />I also want to let you know that there are many biographies of Kerouac, but only one with the courage to end with a poem, and for that he blesses you from his heaven.<br /><br />best,<br />Larry Beckett<br /><br />assai68014@mypacks.netAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01264551840714565765noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-60192467509362703722010-11-23T09:58:47.853-08:002010-11-23T09:58:47.853-08:00Thanks everybody,
Lovely to consider the glorious...Thanks everybody,<br /><br />Lovely to consider the glorious November weather of Julia's Argentine summer as we drip and shiver here,<br /><br />Sad to recall that after Jeff B's swearing over and over that what happened to his dad would never happen to him, it did, <br /><br />Sweet to remember L'il LZ,<br /><br />Drifting a bit with memories of RC and his one eye out for the light in the window,<br /><br />Shaken a bit by remembering Tim in his brilliance and his loss,<br /><br />Time to remember again with Steve that things and Time<br /><br />become different<br />from what it was, yet<br /><br />something else than presentTChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-48935084402500898032010-11-23T07:42:12.454-08:002010-11-23T07:42:12.454-08:00They remind me of LZ's Little, come to think.They remind me of LZ's Little, come to think.hardPressed poetryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00299038892858081207noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-15455274952044011872010-11-23T07:28:50.193-08:002010-11-23T07:28:50.193-08:00Tom,
What a sight, those circular morning glory f...Tom,<br /><br />What a sight, those circular morning glory flowers against blue siding of the house -- "I lit my purest candle close to my/ Wiindow" . . . .<br /><br /><br />11.23<br /><br />grey whiteness of cloud against shadowed<br />top of ridge, motion of leaves on branch<br />in foreground, waves sounding in channel<br /><br /> side of it become different<br /> from what it was, yet<br /><br /> something else than present,<br /> is past, that thought<br /><br />silver of sunlight reflected in channel,<br />sunlit white cloud to the left of pointSTEPHEN RATCLIFFEhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12339481653546188412noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-32779760874691951432010-11-23T00:30:09.280-08:002010-11-23T00:30:09.280-08:00"It's the song and not the singer that is..."It's the song and not the singer that is the purest candle"<br /><br /><br />So true.hardPressed poetryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00299038892858081207noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-84296952120989248412010-11-22T17:21:55.380-08:002010-11-22T17:21:55.380-08:00I've been away this weekend (a long-weekend he...I've been away this weekend (a long-weekend here in Argentina) and I love to see now that some light and glory have overcome the rain and darkness that have reigned these days before. It doesn't matter if its real or just metaphoric.Juliahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16419101761966668410noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-70965448278291762932010-11-22T16:29:00.060-08:002010-11-22T16:29:00.060-08:00Thanks for sharing this, Tom. When I read the lyri...Thanks for sharing this, Tom. When I read the lyrics at the top of the post, I did not really like them. But as soon as he sang them, a world opened up. I also wondered if this guy was related to Jeff Buckley, who died when he was 30, and sure enough, Jeff was his son.<br /><br />Here's <a href="http://www.metacafe.com/watch/sy-5136374/jeff_buckley_last_goodbye_official_music_video/" rel="nofollow">a video</a> for you.<br /><br />"asionesa"Robbhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12312524900784740898noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-60684186725727075912010-11-22T11:38:48.441-08:002010-11-22T11:38:48.441-08:00I don't think that there is anything about thi...I don't think that there is anything about this analysis and appreciation of Morning Glory, and the relation between the artist and the art he created, that could be better. Given the plethora of bad, lazy (although often well-intended) writing on popular music (I'm qualified to comment on this; I read it too regularly), this feels like a great gift both to the reader and Tim Buckley. The pictures you've included and now Steve s poem here make this really memorable.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-13707912233956330282010-11-22T07:34:30.425-08:002010-11-22T07:34:30.425-08:00Tom,
Really nice to find this this morning, after...Tom,<br /><br />Really nice to find this this morning, after all this dramatic weather yesterday, last night's full moon climbing into the sky then disappearing into clouds, this special date this morning (11.22.2010), morning glories against the wall of some fleeting house, Tim Buckley singing his song, your reflection on song, memory of Creeley. . . .<br /><br /><br />11.22<br /><br />pink edge of grey cloud in pale blue sky<br />above ridge, golden-crowned sparrow’s oh<br />in foreground, sound of waves in channel<br /><br /> whose position was physical,<br /> continued observation<br /><br /> such as one to which, whose<br /> visibility, once more<br /><br />silver of sunlight reflected in channel,<br />whiteness of cloud to the left of pointSTEPHEN RATCLIFFEhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12339481653546188412noreply@blogger.com