Whether what we sense of this world
is the what of this world only, or the what
of which of several possible worlds
—which what?—something of what we sense
may be true, may be the world, what it is, what we sense.
For the rest, a truce is possible, the tolerance
of travelers, eating foreign foods, trying words
that twist the tongue, to feel that time and place,
not thinking that this is the real world.

Conceded, that all the clocks tell local time;
conceded, that “here” is anywhere we bound
and fill a space; conceded, we make a world:
is something caught there, contained there,
something real, something which we can sense?
Once in a city blocked and filled, I saw
the light lie in the deep chasm of a street,
palpable and blue, as though it had drifted in
from say, the sea, a purity of space.

William Bronk, "Metonymy as an Approach to a Real World," from The World, The Worldless (New Directions, 1964)

Daniel Johnston - Hey Joe

Hey Jude, come on, Joe

Don’t make that sad song
Any sadder than it already is

Hey Jack, get back
Get yourself together
Come on, come on

I know you’re thinking of your nervous love
I know exactly what you’re thinking of

Hey Sid, no matter what you did
It can work out, work out
No matter how you feel right now

Hey George, do your chores
Don’t feel sore
I know it’s a lot more than just being poor

There’s a heaven and there’s a star for you
There’s a heaven and there’s a star for you
There’s a heaven and there’s a star for you”