Joanna Newsom

This place is damp and ghostly
I am already gone.
And the halls were lined with the disembodied
and dustly wings, which fell from flesh
gasplessly.
And I go where the trees go,
and I walk from a higher education
(for now, for hire)
And it beats me, but I do not know.
Palaces and stormclouds
the rought, straggly sage, and the smoke
and the way it will all come together
(in quietness, in time)
And you laws of property
you free economy
you unending afterthoughts,
you could've told me before -
Never get so attached to a poem
you forget truth that lacks lyricism;
never draw so close to the heat
that you forget that you must eat.