Before You Came
WritingOh, can’t you hear them? Hear their whispering sighs? The pines speak for the wasted ones, in stinging boughs they hide. Oh, can’t you feel them? Feel their longing eyes? They followed me and swallowed me back when you were mine. I’d had someone to bear my blame Before you came Before you came I’d
Still The Birds They Fly
WritingIn the morn’ we’ll go to the firs, the firs In the morn’ we’ll go to the firs In the morn’ I’ll leave you to burn, to burn In the morn’ I’ll leave you to burn Providence comes to the woman who waits and leaves her lover to yearn In the morning we’ll go to
Time Is Its Only Measure
WritingThe ghosts here come and go now, passing through with courteous nods. “We’re afraid we can’t stay long,” they say as they leave rings on the linen, and taint every room that they’ve been in. St. Jude swings from his silver chain turning slowly, looking away. Hanging from my rear view– the only thing I
Apparently I Was In A Mood
WritingI sit staring sullenly, eyes pointed to the left at nothing at all, waiting for you to interrupt me with some noise — some footfall or floorboard creak or impotent sigh — impossibly well-engineered to be the most distracting sound in the known universe. My wonderful, amazing, life-changing work of art has been unforgivably postponed
Backporch Camerata
MusicBoth big and little ants have been trying to step up their artsy game for the season of lent. Part of that includes forcing ourselves to get in the habit of not just consuming, but creating regularly. Little ant has a nice writing program going on, but I have been having a harder time figuring
The Dirt
WritingI followed you to a grave of stones— the moon washed us out and remade us. We stayed there our whole lives, and waited for them to come. We waited for them to come. We let them tell us about a home with golden light and floors of loam, where we were born and lived
Killing Time
WritingJust after three o’clock in the afternoon, Johnnie MacCracken’s Celtic Pub was dead as a doornail, which is exactly how Bud liked it. He swirled the last of his beer around in it’s red and white can before leaning his head back and tipping it down his throat. Belching inwardly, Bud crimped his can slightly
I think something sinister has happened to my dustpan.
WritingThe door to the shed is open again. It’s a black yawning maw in a white face. ________________________________________________ I think something sinister has happened to my dustpan. Today is Thursday, the second day of Lent. I am sick, and I came home from work early after being sure to pass my germs along to everyone
I Needed The Whole of Nature to Unbosom Myself
Music
My little pup turned 11 years old over the weekend! To celebrate the sweetest edition to my life since little ant (aww), I dug up an old song inspired by Rogue the dog.
A few years ago, I lived in a house where Rogue could be left outside in the backyard thanks to a huge fence and a low-traffic area. I left her out one beautiful day before walking down to my favorite watering hole, only to have the beautiful day overcome by thunderstorms while I was inside and unaware. After running home through the rain, the saddest ball of wet shivers ran up to me from under the patio table- ranking that night one of my top 5 Worst Pet Owner moments. I muddled up our stories and added a pinch of hyperbole to write this song.
Dark Parlour Song
Music
This week I have escaped to a cold empty beach on the border of Alabama and Mississippi. I walked down to the beach this evening and not only did I fail to pass a single soul on the walk to the ocean, but I couldn’t see even a flashlight bobbing on the beach in either direction. The absolute quiet and remoteness of this place has a very serious presence that is almost a companion in itself. Creepy sounding? Maybe a bit.
Adieu False Heart is a traditional parlour song that was written in the late 1800’s with an assumed southern/creole influence. Adieu got a minor (as in key) remake in 2006 on the eponymous album by Linda Ronstadt and Ann Savoy. I have had it stuck in my head on and off for about a year now and it is the perfect music for a cold, dark night in the southern states. Here is a (cell phone) recording of me singing it this evening. With a little ocean thrown in at the end.