June 14, 2007

Dear Bob Dylan,

Congratulations on the Prince of Austurias Award.

All day I’ve listened to Modern Times.  As if to prove once again that I have no identity, nor the ability to speak or dream when caught within the resilient cannon bone of your voice.  Beyond what each song provides or doesn’t provide so much as bestows, yes, because that is what each song does, it bestows upon us the brightest gift.  From them, we are no longer the listener nor the borrower but the possessor.  We are allowed to take each song, touch them one by one, and make them ours.

One of the things the prize jury for the Prince of Austurias Award said was, “He’s considered one of the most important figures of song, a form in which he combines, in a majestic way, the beauty of his poetry and ethical commitment.”

There you have it, a word or two beyond refinement.

What can I do, but keep silent and listen to your songs.  I simply don’t know how to give you a truer blessing.

Like the poet John Yau wrote, what can I do.  I have dreamed of you so much, what can I do, lost as I am in the sky.  Now that I dream of you so much, my lips are like clouds.

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