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No Remembrance of Former Things

from Twelve Nights by Harrison Lemke



In the front-room half-asleep.
Fireworks speak out in the street,
Punctuate the senseless clamor.
Drunkards yell in slack-jawed grammar.

The smoke turns south, the smoke turns north,
the smoke wreathes 'round the upper floors.
Flares foretell the glory coming -
oh ecstasy! An end to something.

The fumbling race resuscitates
old schemes to make the crooked straight;
some untried thing to put some hope in,
a beginning or an end to something.

In the front-room fast-asleep.
Lamppost fizzles in the street.
At three or four the lawn chairs fold;
the new year is already old.


from Twelve Nights, released January 30, 2013
Harrison Lemke - guitar, harmonica & vocals




Harrison Lemke Austin, Texas

tape-hiss symphonies to God

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