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Category: Music

POEM: In The Hall Of The Mountain King

In The Hall Of The Mountain King

In the hall of the mountain king
the radio plays Bing Crosby on a loop.
The king sits in his La-Z-Boy,
breathing in slowly so he can watch
the bowl of his pipe rekindle.
He buys his tobacco down in the valley
from a kid too young to understand
the wooden statue of the Indian outside the store.
The king goes to get it himself;
you can’t trust a lackey with your special blend.
As the smoke curls toward the distant ceiling,
the king knows all is right in his kingdom.
Bing sings: “Where the blue of the night /
meets the gold of the day / someone waits for me.”

/ / /

3 December 2024
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Jazz Means “I Dare You”

Jazz Means “I Dare You”

Feet hanging off
the edge of the bed,
even though I know
the cat will bite me.

/ / /

27 November 2024
Charlottesville VA

(The title is a paraphrase
of something said by
saxophonist Wayne Shorter.)

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POEM: Very Early

Very Early

A mourning dove coos, well, mournfully, through Bill Evans’ solo on “Very Early.” A Danish musician had these tapes for years before finally deciding others might like to hear them. What other treasures are hidden in attics and under beds? What magic waits behind downcast eyes? A neighbor drags his garbage to the street, then walks back to his house to do – what? Now it’s a bass solo with catbird accompaniment. The chai in my mug has gone cold.

/ / /

15 May 2024
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Wake Up To Find Out

Wake Up To Find Out

In my late 40s I became
obsessed
with the Grateful Dead.
It happened just as everything
I counted on in my life died.
Again.
I took to the road
in a decades-old minivan,
no Tennessee to get back to, Jed.
It was freezing at night in Wilmington.
The winds blew a gale in San Diego.
I walked the road where James Dean died,
a little envious of his blaze.
In Monterrey, in Anza-Borrego,
in Key West, in Acadia,
in Falmouth, in Apalachicola,
I studied the road ahead for a sign.


/ / /

15 April 2024
Charlottesville VA
NaPoWriMo Day 15

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Concert Review: Joseph

Humans have come up with many ways to make beautiful sounds over the past several thousand years, but we’ve never outdone the first one: the voice. Tonight, at the Jefferson Theatre in Charlottesville, three sisters showed once again how the power of the human voice is enough to strip away your preconceptions and build a beautiful alternate world in their place. Joseph traded leads throughout the show and harmonized in that way that only family can. Accompanied by just a guitar and a digital bass drum, the trio surveyed their entire musical output and treated us all to what at times felt more like a secular revival meeting than a concert. Joseph is unafraid to celebrate, to mourn, to indict, to examine, to uplift. They are transcendent and we were all lucky to be there. We can’t know where humanity will end up, but if it’s somewhere bright, voices like this will be there.

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POEM: The Ocean

The Ocean

We’re both listening to
Richard Hawley.

Not together, but
together anyway.

When “The Ocean”
comes on I imagine…

it doesn’t matter.
But I’m certainly

picturing it as the violins
dance in the background.

There’s no key
for this painting.

We just have to guess
at the colors,

try to keep them from
spilling off the canvas.

“You’ll lead me down
to the ocean.”

Guitar solo.
Here comes a wave.

/ / /

5 January 2024
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: The Many Worlds Hypothesis & Song To A Seagull

The Many Worlds Hypothesis & Song To A Seagull

Joni Mitchell sang into
an open piano

when she recorded
her first album

because David Crosby
thought it would

enhance her voice —
and it did,

but it also magnified
the other sounds in the room

so they were forced to
strip away the high frequencies,

leaving a flatter beauty,
and this is why

I am careful when I
look at you

because the universe
has limits.

/ / /

3 January 2024
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Everybody Thinks It’s True


Everybody Thinks It’s True

If things were different,
if things were how I wanted them to be,
you’d have been the first one I told.

You could have celebrated with me,
given me some pointers,
loved all of me. Instead,

I’m sitting on the porch in the twilight
listening to Paul Simon sing
“Train In The Distance.”

In ten days I’ll be in Tucson.
Are you still there?
Are you there?
Are you?

/ / /

5 November 2023
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: I Skipped “Maya The Psychic”

I Skipped “Maya The Psychic”

I raced home to tell you about
the production of Hamlet I saw tonight.
You would have loved it, or at least
you’d have loved that I loved it,
back when that was how things were.
I listened to our playlist on the way home:
“Supersoaker” and “National Express”
and “Stronger” and “The Ballad of El Goodo.”
I skipped “Maya The Psychic.”
Not because it’s not a good song
but because it sounds more like you
than I can usually handle.
Same with Hozier, who has new music out
and we play it on my station
which means every day
I sit there and listen and his voice
is really your voice.
Anyway Hamlet was fabulous
but when I got home it was empty.

/ / /

1 October 2023
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Airwaves

Airwaves

When the Ford Festiva’s tape deck broke
it was all radio, all the time.
The Afghan Whigs & Goo Goo Dolls
& Blues Traveler & Tracy Chapman
& Alannis Morissette & Jewel
& Dishwalla & Deep Blue Something
& Coolio & Hootie & The Blowfish
& Oasis & No Doubt & The Bodeans
& Natalie Merchant & Melissa Etheridge.
Driving the meanish streets of Tucson
with a styrofoam container of burritos
on the passenger seat, coming home
from a gig at 2 a.m. to an empty apartment,
and later to a less empty one.

/ / /

8 September 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 49 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day for the 50 days leading up to my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: “Back On The Chain Gang” / “Fotos y Recuerdos”

“Back On The Chain Gang” / “Fotos y Recuerdos”

I know this song because of Selena,
which is odd because I seem more
like a Pretenders guy at first glance.

You were rehabbing houses in Tucson,
I was playing nights in a latin dance band.
We were listening to a lot of music in Spanish.

When she died it was like a day of mourning
settled on the city. The guys you worked with
sang along to her songs on the radio and cried.

We moved to Japan and watched
Jennifer Lopez (a new name to both of us)
play Selena in the movie.

We rode the trains to work, probably
the only people on the Yamanote Line
swaying gently to “Como la Flor.”

All these years later I still think of
late-night burrito runs to Los Betos
when I hear her music, or else

watching Domino sleeping in a patch of sun
on the floor of our apartment in Yokohama.
Photos and memories.

/ / /

6 September 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 47 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day for the 50 days leading up to my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Playlist

Playlist

“Jackie And Wilson”
is on my son’s playlist.
Suddenly I’m in our car,
on the way to Livingston,
singing along with you,
hands clasped on your lap
or mine.
I almost asked him to skip it,
but I didn’t feel like saying why,
so I kept quiet and thought of you
until my breath returned to normal.

/ / /

5 September 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 46 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day for the 50 days leading up to my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Gratitude

Gratitude

Mike for Joni.
David for The Roots.
Jeff for Bruce.
The other Jeff for Dire Straits.
Roberto for Cachao.
Jen for Los Lobos.
Josh for Jewels And Binoculars.
Dave for Toad The Wet Sprocket.
Ady for Lilia Vera.
A different Jen for Elvis Costello.
Grandpa for Glen Gray.
Grandma for Nat Cole.
Cory for Billy Bragg.
Kazuhiro for TMN.
Steven for Leonard Cohen.
Paul for Hugh Masekela.
Christian for Billy Idol.
Todd for KISS.
Ed for Johnny Cash.
Tina for Hank Williams.
Peter for Youssou N’Dour.
Kevin for most of the rest.

/ / /

2 September 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 43 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day for the 50 days leading up to my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: The First Time

The First Time

Junior high auditorium.
(It’s an old folks home now.)
Jazz ensemble show.
They got to the solo spot.
Mr. Boyce (now deceased)
stepped to the electric piano.
A kid rose in the sax section,
the school’s soprano sax shining
in the stage lights, to take a solo.
The drummer kicked into action,
Mr. Boyce pounded the keys,
the kid closed his eyes and blew
until a whole new future
stretched out in front of him.

/ / /

18 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 28 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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