The Gravedigger's a Daughter III - Nature's law

How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?

- Hamlet

One
little two
little three
little graves
and perhaps a fourth?
All just within this season

Did I forget to write the obituaries?
Or carve the inscriptions on the headstones?
Here and there such and such do lie...

Or will I ever visit these absences again?
Will there be a need to know
where each of them is hidden?

Oblivion does to so-called love
what worms do to a corpse
It is nature's law

The Gravedigger's a Daughter II - Pájaros de barro

Hago pájaros de barro

y los echo a volar.

- Manolo García, Pájaros de Barro

I am not a bird
I'm a murder of birds
Shifting my shape
When my tongue finds the word
When my eyes find the fault
When my feet find the trail
When my hands find the clay

Words drifting away from Jesca Hoop's Murder of Birds

The Gravedigger's a Daughter I - Wings and Earthquakes

I dance in graveyards
Still looking like a vampire
in the dawn
And I love, and I hate

I laugh in the face of kings
never afraid to be right
And I hate, and I love

And I watch you wither
and fight
over your Christmas parties

(Yellow bird flying
got shot in the wing
good year for hunters
and little earthquakes

I'd rather be a winged rose
that safely changes her color
Escapes from being left here
silent
And brings her own self back again)


Una otra posibilidad de Tori Amos' Little Earthquakes

The Gravedigger's Requiem (or, the early death of the newly born twin trees)

And was it worth it,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
After the porcelain, after all those talks of you and me,
to have bitten off all those matters with a smile
to have squeezed the universe into so many balls
and rolled them towards all those overwhelming questions,
to have said "That's exactly what I mean"
or "That is not what I meant"?
Was it worthwhile,
after having laid our pillows by each other's head
and had no need to say anything at all?

For I am not Prince Hamlet, but I am no attendant lord.
I am no attendant lady, either.
I'm a gravedigger.
I find no difference between a jester and a king,
and burying the death has become so auspicious
that I can dig while whistling a merry tune.
I can dig and bury even if the occassion
requires a requiem.

I'm also a good prophet.
I could tell you all, but you'll find it out yourself.



Yet again, another variation on Elliot's Prufrock.