My Sweetheart the Drunk

I wrote this poem reflecting on the death of Jeff Buckley in Wolf River Harbor, an offshoot of the Mississippi. He and his band were in the process of recording an album entitled,  My Sweetheart the Drunk , which was never finished. Legend has it that he was hollering Led Zeppelin lyrics and had waded down in the water when a tugboat passed and swept him under the current. They found his body downriver a few days later. Buckley’s music means a lot to me, as I know it does for many. In his heartbroken opuses, his crooning voice often sounds like crying (“she’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever”), and sometimes in the daydreaming space his songs invoke, I wonder if he knew it was his time to go. As a side note, the title of this song isn’t intended to reflect the nature of his passing—according to the reports, there were no drugs in his system at the time of his death.

I wrote this poem reflecting on the death of Jeff Buckley in Wolf River Harbor, an offshoot of the Mississippi. He and his band were in the process of recording an album entitled, My Sweetheart the Drunk, which was never finished. Legend has it that he was hollering Led Zeppelin lyrics and had waded down in the water when a tugboat passed and swept him under the current. They found his body downriver a few days later. Buckley’s music means a lot to me, as I know it does for many. In his heartbroken opuses, his crooning voice often sounds like crying (“she’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever”), and sometimes in the daydreaming space his songs invoke, I wonder if he knew it was his time to go. As a side note, the title of this song isn’t intended to reflect the nature of his passing—according to the reports, there were no drugs in his system at the time of his death.

Fear of nothing

Fear of flying 

Fear of flaws in his design

Ragged child on the edge of the mire

Singing, “I’m gonna leave you in the summertime”

Fear of earth, and fear of hurt

To dispose is to submerge

In his soul suspended tears

He predicted fewer years 


I could follow where he leads 

To surrender to the reeds 

wrap me in their spider arms 

And swallow me in floating stars 

Notes that spun a world of ours 

Sickly on the boulevard

Mojo pin, eternal life

Absolved in water, all your strife