It’s Probably A Metaphor For Something
Midway through the whistling solo
the dog knocked over something in the kitchen;
that was the best take,
so now the clatter has become
part of the song.
/ / /
10 January 2025
Charlottesville VA
Category: Music
Weather Forecasting In Late-Stage Capitalism
Labi Siffre morphs into Marshall Mathers.
The kitten keeps watch from a high perch.
They say a storm is coming tonight.
We’re deciding if one egg will be enough.
My tea is already lukewarm.
Now Labi is singing a ballad.
He’s queer, so I feel like he’s singing to me.
Perhaps in the morning there’ll be snow.
A soft blanket on a hard world.
/ / /
5 January 2025
Charlottesville VA
The Next Pretty Note
Elvis Costello’s “Shipbuilding”
plays on a loop in my head,
even as Stephanie and I
pause
to diagnose what the kitten
might have just knocked over
out in the living room.
Chet Baker, late in life,
approaching the fall
that would kill him,
plays the most incredible solo
on “Shipbuilding” – including,
at one point, a delay pedal
that makes him sound
like a choir of trumpets.
I used to know a guy
who played with Chet:
“Everybody always wondered
what he was thinking to play
as beautifully as he did.
He once told me: ‘I’m just looking
for the next pretty note.’”
Meanwhile, in the living room,
Something else falls.
/ / /
1 January 2025
Charlottesville VA
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
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.)
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
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
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.
Leave a CommentThe 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
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
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
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
barefoot singer:
beating the rain
to the basement
/ / /
12 September 2023
Charlottesville VA
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.
Leave a Comment“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.
Leave a Comment