XC 5.15.08

5.15.08
artist, song, album

bad plus, life on mars, prog (playing at Juneau Jazz and Classics 5/23)
? Brought the wrong cd, will update this as soon as I can
?
Favela Rising Soundtrack
Breathe Owl Breath, Blackbear, Canadian Shield
Jeremy Kittel, Gloomy Weather, Roaming
Tom Waits, You Can Never Hold back Spring, Orphans

calexico, fake fur, the black light
“”, where water flows, the black light
bright eyes, haligh, haligh, a lie, haligh, fevers and mirrors
“”, sunrise, sunset, fevers and mirrors
“”, attempt to tip the scales, “”

clap your hands and say yeah, sunshine and clouds (and everything proud), clap your hands and say yeah
“”, details of a war, “”
bat for lashes, horse and i, fur and gold

top of the hour, station id

donovan, please don’t bend, sutras
gilian welch, annabelle, revival
iron and wine, jezebel, woman king
“”, woman king, “”
jack johnson, no other way, in between dreams
the black keys, the lengths, rubber factory
leftover salmon fet. john bell, nobody’s fault but mine, nashville sessions
wood brothers, angel, loaded

tiny vipers, swastika, hands across the void
marc ribot y los cubanos postizos, aurora en pekin, marc ribot y los cubanos postizos
“”, postizo, “”

laters

Dream-verse

bleary-eyed father
runs down the trail seeking
something, perhaps
resembling silence
inside the crooked walls
of the shingled shack
below

not seeing
with eyes
but rather feeling
with memory
spring in the earth
around him
struggling also
to arrive
again this year
late

empty
bird feeder
in willow tree
budding

down-hill
reaching
for the runoff
runnels carved
in gravelly earth
and microscopic
horsetail forest

swollen
door
swung and latched
behind him

pen and
paper
in hand

seed opening
sprout of verse
a song for spring
let loose
where it flutters
and flowers up
and out
to the open window
trailing strong roots

embracing the shack
and all its fertile rot

bleary-eyed father
becomes bright-eyed
creator

breathing dream verse
in musty
shack

Rigs and Xerox Machines

because he asked
for help
i remember

unafraid
admitting
he was out of
his element
“my dad fixes
these things”
oil darkened, rough
hands placing
grimy
paystubs
on clean xerox
machine glass
looking up from
the machine
he tells me
“i fix rigs”

i gave him
this poem
a tribute to
skilled hands
and specialized
knowledge
instead of the
usual
‘too-much-information’
eye-roll

Inside the Poem Home

inside disregarded shack
full of and
haunted by
long-ago written poems
dust is falling
through angled light columns
to threadbare rug
and faded painted plywood

from outside
i imagine i am
inside
with clear mind
hot tea,
focused and working
and not
outside
with dogs
and jobs
and kids
and houses
and money
in mind

inside the poem home
i am a new man

i call the dogs
from down the beach
and go inside
inside

____