Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Thick light on a dull
day. Too warm for muchof anything – some
beer in the shade anda good stretch of
doing nothing.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Today,
broken-handledcup of wind.
Tomorrow,torn silk.
Last night,darkness
all the wayhome.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Another post has been added to the ongoing online game of Consequences I have participated in. Each successive entry begins with the closing lines of its predecessor. Entries are 250 words long, and are linked thematically. The postings in the series to date are these:
Consequences #1 - No Man Is an Island: Hydragenic.
Consequences #2 - Entire of Itself: Patteran Pages.
Consequences #3 - A Part of the Main: Porous Borders.
Consequences #4 - To Belong: The Middlewesterner.
Consequences #5 - Be-longing: Feathers of Hope.
Consequences #6 - Expats, or: La Vie En Rosé: Blaugustine.
As additional posts go up, I will update this log at my earliest convenience. Enjoy!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Sometimes it is the flame that goes out, looking for the moth.
Sometimes, writing the poem, I am terribly alone.
Sometimes I need to belong, need the companionship found in being part of a band, need the kind of conversation that music is. I need to play root and fifth to the guitar's flatted seventh.
What is to belong? "Long" is from a root meaning "to go along with." "Be" means "completely." When you play bass in a band, you lay foundation for the music. You go along completely, because the other instruments come with you; they are going, by devious path, where you are going. Even when you cut loose, especially then, you make a promise to always be there, in the right place at the right time: that is the bass-player's compact with his companions.
I have more trouble in my role writing lyrics for our songs. I think the words in some way represent who I am; if the words are changed, somehow I am changed. A fellow sets my words to music. Another fellow sings them. Like me, they believe the song represents who they are.
Sometimes they want changes, so lyrics and music belong more completely to one another. Do I go along? Not always. Yes, words and music must fit each other. Yet sometimes the words have made other promises; thus is poetry an inferior art. And thus, seeking to belong, sometimes I find myself strangely silent.
Only the music belongs completely to itself.
_____________________
(This is the fourth post in an ongoing online game of Consequences. Each successive entry begins with the closing lines of its predecessor. Entries are 250 words long, and are linked thematically. The postings in the series to date can be found as follows:
Consequences #1 - No Man Is an Island: Hydragenic.
Consequences #2 - Entire of Itself: Patteran Pages.
Consequences #3 - A Part of the Main: Porous Borders.
Consequences #4 - To Belong: The Middlewesterner.
Consequences #5 - Be-longing: Feathers of Hope.
Consequences #6 - Expats, or: La Vie En Rosé: Blaugustine.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
"There's
onlyso much
juice,"the poet
says,"and then
you'reempty.
You cankeep writing
but youwon't
say much."
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Monday, June 08, 2009
Friday, June 05, 2009
"Stand there,"
the poet says."Be patient.
Just wait.They will come.
They will takeyour breath away."
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
"I don't know,"
the poet said."I just listen
when they speak.Don't you
hear them?They are all
around us.The sky is
thick with them.Shut your
pie-holeand you too
will hear them."
Monday, June 01, 2009
