know that I do love you, world; somehow, sometimes, in ways I cannot always express

I’ve got this CrimeThinc Collective book sitting next to the bed
with a title that keeps running thru my head: “Days of War, Nights of Love.”

I have never been a pacifist
but I feel a true war boiling
in my hands tonight

I am learning to shoot
to load bottles with fire
to slip around unnoticed

but when will I learn to love?

I have no true love for the tribe I’m in
I have no faith in the people

I fight because it’s right
not because I care that much
for their pain

when will I learn to love the way
the fighters who survive the war do —
passionately, reaching for their companions
in the face of boredom and disgrace

and stopping to honor them
imperfect
rare and sloppy from living

when will I learn that love
is something I should give
even when I do not feel
it’s been earned

I know revenge
and now I must learn something
of hope


i just woke up in a cold sweat.

is everyone ok?

is everything ok? beyond the current and obvious world situation, i mean?

Continue reading

bad and good things come in 3s

Katrina.
Rehnquist.

I’ll lay odds on a terrorist incident. Full on martial law to follow.

**********************************************

In the meantime: Tony’s poetry marathon continues to grow.

9/11 — 3 shows in one day.

At 12: in Boston at The Rack for a quick set as part of a commemorative music/poetry show. Possibly with Regie Gibson, definitely with Patty Keough. Details to follow.

At 3: in Middleboro MA at the Herring Run Arts Fest with a group set.

At 7:30: in Worcester at the Hut for a full scale feature.

I’m going to try not to repeat anything, for those of you who feel like making the tour with me… 🙂

Free speech for the new millenium while we can…

T


two things:

1.
can someone confirm that emily kagan is indeed the feature at the hut tomorrow night? i was under the impression that she couldn’t make it and that caroline harvey was the feature.

2.
thought i would post this oldie for the moment we’re in.

it’s a good several years old, so keep in mind it’s not in my current style.

Talking To My Son About the Darkness


do not start any day with the words,
I recall.
do not, late at night, lean
toward poignancy.

to be blunt, if you can’t avoid these
two things, you
shouldn’t be talking at all,
not yet.
it’s not a good use of your time
to ponder and reflect.

not yet.
you’d be better off if you would just
strip off your old clothes,
open the front door
run into traffic, and
die
out there.

come back as a blowtorch
and build something for a change,
instead of always describing
the potential for a splendid new everything,
living
your moment
as a welder lives it:
all sparks and grit
and beaded wounds
healing before you.

keep it all to yourself
until you’ve got something
worth saying.

Continue reading

oh, yeah, almost forgot…

go HERE for good writing and thoughtful politics…

http://www.november3rdclub.com/


God Speaks

God will want nothing to do with you
as long as you won’t
cut your hair, the sweet old
witch told me

as we smoked on the corner
outside her store,
the bookstore where I spent almost
every hour I wasn’t working.

I remembered then that I’d heard
she’d packed up everything she owned
and moved here from New Orleans two weeks before The Flood.
Was it a whim, a dare, a premonition?

I used to be brave about the possibility
that the more I looked like Jesus, the greater the chance
I’d be ignored at Judgement Day among the other
wannabe Messiahs. I refused to be confused with them,

so I cut my hair the next morning
before going out. I figured
she must know something, what with
that hair, those books,

that light around her.


I feel like shit.

I think, number one, that I’ve been drinking too much lately. I downed a few bourbons (my drink of choice lately) last night after Christian’s feature in Providence, and I’m feeling the fatigue this AM.

Number two: I have too much to do.

Number three: I have too much to think about.

Time to withdraw a bit from things and think less, feel more.


a little drunk.

a lot sad.

imsonshyne caught me by phone in the middle of johnnylexicon‘s excellent feature to let me know about Angela Boyce’s departure.

I called kickasphalt immediately to see if she had details, and ended up breaking the news.

we’ll miss you, our lady of the crickets.

pat storm, ken hunt, angela boyce…why is it the ones with huge hearts?

Continue reading

from freeimprov

http://www.livejournal.com/users/freeimprov/150358.html?mode=reply&style=mine


my favorite line of the moment from The First Jackass

[Bush]defended the federal government’s response so far to the growing crisis amid urgent pleas for help from stranded victims. He said the breach of the levees that led to the submerging of much of New Orleans had not been anticipated. (emphasis mine)

Um, dude?

I refer you, among many sources, to the noted flood experts Led Zeppelin.

Their insightful analysis of similar situations, nearly thirty years prior to this event, noted that “if it keeps on raining, the levee’s gonna break…”

Not “might break.” “Gonna Break.” In fact, the report was titled “When the Levee Breaks.” Not “If the Levee Breaks,” or “The Levee Break? Impossible.”

Seriously. I heard him say it. Heard him say it. Did I just hear that?

Didn’t his budget CUT FUNDING for this last year????

Can I just get some outrage beyond that of us, the usual suspects, this time????


Baaaaa…

http://www.myspace.com/chryslerpoet

I just got started, have no idea what I’m gonna do with it or why…but I mean, I’ve got so little to do right now, why not?


poem for someone else’s song

can’t take this away from me
music is the air I breathe

— sleater-kinney, “words + guitar”

chords rose
staccato out of a bed
of unison vocals

and became weightless,
immense

the balcony moved
above it, swayed
once and
settled back
like silt falls to a near rest
after boots plow through the riverbed

watching carrie dance the focus
twistjump wriggle backdown
never missing one chord
janet in the back with a rock
corin afterburner wailing

sou and bill afire at the edge of the rail

ken stood next to me
in those last years of his life
his eyes closed as he danced
as if it was the last day he ever would

i don’t remember if i danced
but i know i moved
was moved to ask
am still asking

is there a song like that
in me?


2 things:

1.
Just added another NYC gig, Saturday 10/1 at the Bowery Poetry Club in the afternoon — say, 12-2 (details in progress) — part of a group performance with musicians. Includes Paul Aaron, Evie Shockley, and a bunch of others I don’t know.

This I got into kinda suddenly when Paul Aaron and I met a week or so ago, he invited me down, the date came up, and the rest is history.

No clue as to what I’ll be doing. Whee! Gotta love it.

And since I’ll also be in Brooklyn for a show on 9/28…mebbe I’ll stay through, catch Urbana and the Nuyo…hmm…wish i could get in early for Acentos, but no such luck that week.

2.
If anybody can point me to a site that will give me all the current scoop on readings/slams in the LA area — where and when, etc., with special attention to stuff near Hollywood — I’d be most grateful. For a work-friend who’s interested in getting out while she’s in town, which is pretty often.


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