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Monday is the day we cradle our heads wishing that we were home safe asleep in bed
Tuesday is the day we cradle our hearts wishing we had said, something we haven't said
Wednesday is the day we cradle our wounds, calling them by the names, of children we never had.
Thursday is the day we polish the tombs, carving in the names, of parents we never had.
But friday night is a night for dancing, calling me back home.
Saturday is a day for new chances, transcendent chaos enthroned.
and sunday's sober solemn silence bares bitter barbed blue bones.

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from the trail has been lost, released September 3, 2013

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Dick Nixon Arisen Connecticut

Out in the woods.

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