This is where Laurie Anderson learned to crawl
Walking and falling
The muses are calling,
“This is your captain
speaking with his voice
We all have a choice:
Sink or swim?
Walk or fall?”
Voices in a frame
spell my name
smell the same
speak the flame into being
The pictures I’m seeing
Are talking and calling
rising and falling
Learning to crawl
Crawling to the starting line
Crawling to the finish line
This is the date
This is the debt
This is the gate where Jesus wept
Take me to Pilate
Take me to Macbeth
I won’t wait for fate to flog me to death
I put all my eggs in one basket,
set my basket on a wall
where it was sure to fall
All the king’s horse
and all the king’s men
with sword and with pen
Struck down the basket
scattered the nest
burned down the rest
Walking and falling
The Tweeling is bawling
I speak and swell
but cannot spell
the broken frame
that knows my name
Things crawl apart
The centre cannot mould
Waiting for the crash
Slouching to The Clash
The distance between us is certain to fall
like time in a bottle, an egg on a wall
But no one comes close to learning it all
My blood is congealing
My brain is concealing
the past from the present
(It’s not very pleasant)
Yet on to The Tweeling
We march
We march
Be still, my soldier
Lie still
Lie still
The Tweeling is coming
I can tell
And nothing could suit this time so well
With infinite feeling
this forthcoming Tweeling
is dragging us all to hell
At least we’re talking
talking and telling
speaking and spelling
bit by bit
putting it all back together
all
And all will be well
All manner of things will be well
Fear not
Fear not