Leonard Cohen, butch icon

It’s a beautiful day,

sunny and mild,

a perfect January day.

Yesterday,

was a good day,

I’m hoping for two in a row:-)

I’ve started a new book,

Kazuo Ishiguro’s,

An Artist Of The Floating World,

it was laying around,

the bookstore,

and,

since,

I absolutely adored,

Remains Of The Day,

I thought I’d give it,

a go.

Set in the immediate,

aftermath of World War II Japan.

It is the story of an artist,

and his recollections.

I’ll let you know.

 

On Monday,

I was listening to,

Leonard Cohen’s,

new album,

Old Ideas.

It is new Cohen,

but,

feels,

vintage.

I have a thing for,

Cohen,

one of my icons,

he comes from Montreal,

he’s a poet,

a dapper dresser,

a lover of women,

and what a way,

with words,

gives me chills,

makes me heart,

soar,

or,

ache,

both.

A man of great passion,

From Suzanne,

And she feeds you Tea and oranges

that come all the way from China

And just when you mean to tell her

That you have no love to give her

Then she gets you on her wavelenght

And she lets the river answer

That you’ve always been her lover

And you want to travel with her

And you want to travel blind

And you know that she will trust you

For you’ve touched her perfect body

With your mind.

connection,

real connection.

From Hallelujah,

Baby I’ve been here before

I know this room, I’ve walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you.

and this,

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty in the moolight overthrew you

love, romance and yes,

a touch of,

fear.

From I’m your Man,

If you want a lover

I’ll do anything you ask me to

And if you want another kind of love

I’ll wear a mask for you

If you want a partner

Take my hand

Or if you want to strike me down in anger

Here I stand

I’m your man

Whatevever you want,

whatever you need,

Leonard knows:-)

From Dance Me To The End Of Love,

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in

Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the end of love

He speaks to me,

he’s from,

my neck of the woods,

his voice is gravelly,

he purrs,

he growls,

he’s tough,

he’s tender,

romantic,

carnal.

Plus,

I admit,

I like his face:-)

Thinker,

brooder,

lover,

singer,

poet,

mensch,

butch icon.

Later girls,

BB

 

 

 


	

Published by

Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my very early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

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