© Allison Taylor + Lee Moyer

Performed Friday, January 11th, 2001

www.leemoyer.com

Once upon a morning lousy, while I drifted, drained and drowsy,
Just to rest my aching head from memories of blood and gore;
While I pondered my surroundings, suddenly there came a sounding,
As of someone dully pounding, pounding at my darkened door.
"Who, my God, is that," I grumbled, "drumming at my darkened door?
‘Tis my head, and nothing more."

Oh, and don’t you think I know it happened only hours ago!
The glow from all the TV snow reflected so upon the floor.
Gingerly I poured a glass, if only to forget the crash
‘Twixt motorcycle and bypass, that seized my seamless sweet, Lenore;
Whom I stranded and abandoned, frightened of her final score:
I feared her gone forevermore.

And the shrieking shrill undying sirens and their maddening crying
Killed me–filled me with remorse and horror never felt before;
So that now, to calm the throbbing of my head, I stopped my sobbing:
"Might it be a messenger to tell me of my love Lenore?
Some sad messenger to tell me of my darling love, Lenore?
Arg! I cannot broach the door!"

Gradually my guilt grew greater; circumventing door no later.
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your compassion I implore;
But the fact is, I was speeding, and the guardrail was impeding!
Though my conduct seems misleading, I assure you I am pleading
Just to know that she’s alive!" Here I opened wide the door;---
Daylight there, and nothing more.

Deep into the daylight gazing, there I dreamed of burn and blazing,
Visualizing vile tortures mortals never dreamed before;
But the sunrise seemed to haunt me, and the flowers tried to daunt me,
And the robins, just to taunt me, seemed to twitter out, "Lenore!"
O’er the mountain, brooks, and gorges echoed out the word "Lenore!"
So, I swiftly slammed the door.

Wits about me soon dissolving and the living room revolving,
Soon again, the knocking mounted seemingly to bust the door;
"Stop this unrelenting pounding! Give me air!" I shrieked, resounding.
Storming to the windows, downing umpteenth glass, I hit the floor.
"Let my head be sober, for this noise I can’t and won’t endure!
Let me hear it nevermore!"

Here I opened blinds Venetian, then, with little rhyme nor reason,
In there flew a fluffy bluebird of some faintly fey folklore.
Never thinking then to greet me, barely breaking flight to tweet me
Quick the bluebird landed neatly just below my closet door.
Landed on a bust of Dallas, just below my closet door;
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Soon this cheery azure fowling forced my visage into scowling
By the peaceful, pleased decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though your conduct’s bold and cool, I hope," I said, "that you’re no fool.
But think me not as harsh and cruel, but please depart right out the door!
If you first gave me your name, I might have offered you a tour!"
Quoth the bluebird, "Evermore!"

Woozily I cursed my drinking, for what else would cause my thinking
That this bird could more than twitter? They have never spoke before!
But we cannot help admitting (reckless reveries permitting)
Never man was cursed with sitting bird below his closet door;
Well, who wouldn’t be engrossed with bird below his closet door?
‘Specially this "Evermore."

But the bluebird, dancing cheerful on the bust, did make me tearful;
Fast he flapped from floor to roof and round the room I watched him soar.
Streaks cerulean before me, all the time it did ignore me.
Wearily I whispered, "Surely soon you’ll find my room a bore.
After all, how long d’you think you’ll fly before your wings get sore?"
Then the bird said, "Evermore!"

As it settled on a hanger, its last answer caused me anger,
Bringing on a brutal battle that must soon become a war.
Seeming less a pal than parrot, all I wanted was to tear it;
Drawing close as if to scare it, blasted birdie just ignored.
Maybe it, as if a mimic, learned that one word to its core–
That one word, that "Evermore."

Cranky, crabby, cross and growling, up I lifted hook and fowling,
Straight we fell upon the sofa, as it wouldn’t use the door;
Hanging bluebird from the lighting, there I found it most inciting,
Triggering an inner fighting just to know its stock and store:
What this gratifying, grinning, graceful, gracious, glad eyesore
Meant in chirping, "Evermore."

Right as I prepared my query, up it flew, not nearly weary,
Seemingly to scrutinize my taste in living room décor.
As it searched my shelves disheveled, there I knew this turquoise devil,
Came to guilt me and to level with me of my paramour–
Memories of girl and gravel that the moonlight glimmered o’er–
They shall haunt me evermore!

Swift I spun to cyan creature, cringing at each wicked feature,
Shielding out the lamp that seemed to mark my very soul’s contour–
"Wretch," I cried, "You come to blame me, for my deeds you come to shame me–
Don’t you see my conscience maims me, with this guilt I so abhor?
Must I bear these scarring dreams and hold all anguish heretofore?"
Quoth the bluebird, "Evermore!"

"Liar!" said I, "Thing of malice!–wicked bird, so cruel and callous!
Don’t you know this desolate existence I cannot endure?
Give me reason for my breathing, give me just a soothing sheathing–
Quick, as now my wits are seething–tell me, truly, I implore:
For her pardon must I burn, and yearn for she I still adore?"
Quoth the bluebird, "Evermore!"

"Liar!" said I, "Thing of malice!–wicked bird, so cruel and callous!
Swear by all that’s true and holy, swear as never sworn before!
Tell me, though my heart is stinging, with the angels is she singing?
Are the angels’ bells a-ringing for my blessed love Lenore?
Tell me that the underworld is not the host to my Lenore?
Quoth the bluebird, "Evermore!"

Let that word be your undoing, bird or brute!" I screeched, eschewing.
Get you gone to find another house and spirit to deplore!
Leave no pthalo quill maligning, leave my heart forever pining,
Yet, you’ll take this morbid whining–take this guilt that pains me o’er!
Out at once, you navy demon! How much longer, I implore!"
Quoth the bluebird, "Evermore!"