Folk Music

Folk Music

Liberates the Consciousness of the People

It used to take two Chords

and a pretty good Story

But the People these Days

aren't really into that sort of Thing

Arizona

I wrote 4 songs tonight

Now, that's not exactly true

I wrote 1/2 of one

finished 2

and took a cold, hard, look at an old 1

But finishing something

is a hell of an accomplishment

anyway

and that aint but half of what I did

I'm fibbing,

I didn't mean to

I just realized something just now

that makes me from a second ago

an outright fabricator

I might've wrote 1 and a 1/2 songs today

because two of the songs I finished

are mashed together

and I don't know what that counts for

Lately, I've been thinking alot about Art

I got this professor

always talking about "designation"

(which I don't give a shit about)

as a necessary requirement

for something to be Art

Like we all need more Authorities in our lives

So I dedicated a song to R.G. Collingwood

its an expressionist lyric

he oughta like that

"Collingwood"

When you were a writer

You were in love with your words

You wrote all those letters

Until you lost your nerve

What did you see?

Only the Mountains and the deep blue Sea

& What did you hear?

Only the Birds, Only the Birds, Only the Birds

Were There

Now that you are a painter

You're in love with all you see

You paint all your pictures

& then you ask it of me

What did you see?

Only the Mountains and the deep blue Sea

& What did you hear?

Only the Birds, Only the Birds, Only the Birds

Were There

~

There's an outro to it too

but there's no words

I like to think of it as a Dillemma

which is the same thing to me

as saying the Blues

It brings the melody into a more major

but way stranger space

in 6/4

(With the #s indicating number of measures)

Em G Em G F Fm B7 C7 Cm7 G B7 Em

2 2 2 2 1 1 2 1 1 2 2 2

It's sad and triumphant

the way I like 'em

Really wants a horn

but they're hard to find around here

and I find my mind

drifting off to Arizona

and my lonesome heart

trailing behind

I already done fucked that up

because all that above

comes at the end

and now its all out of order

but it don't matter really

there are always ways

of stranding things together

I wrote the next section first

and its been a minute too

but the words got me thinking

and seeing them in their own light

reminded me of a friend from the Service

That aint true really either

I knew the guy

but I wouldn't call 'em a friend

We were in the same company

and had a couple chances

to shoot the shit together

anyway

he was killed in Afghanistan

guess a week or so now

but it breaks my heart

anyway

"Snow Song"

That idiot drummer

He marched through the summer

Beating his drum

Till it snowed, playing,

"I'm Coming Home"

"I'm Coming Home"

Your soft-hearted sister

She's down by the river

Singing the only song

That she knows

"I'm Coming Home"

"I'm Coming Home"

Because

The Bells in the Alley, they clang

So Slow

And the Horns in the Army, they sing

So Slow

So don't Go

Back to the Snow

Without Me

~

That last bit I wrote

thinking about that kid

AJ Creighton

Who knows if he'd appreciate it

Anyway,

Dedications from Strangers

are more necessary to Art

Than Designations from Anybody

I know they don't make much sense together

at first glance

and they're not really supposed to

in any logical way

but its never been about logic

Anyway

How It All Works

For Stephanie

I've often wondered

whether being a Deconstructionist

affects my marriage

My wife, I think she's one too

even if she don't know it

But its hard to believe

that all that talk of différance

doesn't have some effect

This morning we had a tift

it didn't get out of hand or anything

it was about (t)ime

late mornings are always like that

We went to Gardens In A Flower Pot

on Little Creek

for potting soil

picked up three plants for that

shady oppressive strip of the backyard

Went looking for something called a Leopard Plant

picked up two Gold Dusts

which I think

are probably some version of the same thing

and some Gardenias

which took us by surprise

and we both happen to like

Got home and put away the groceries we picked up

then out to the yard for an hour or so

breaking up the soil, the vines, the weeds,

shoveling and planting

Made tacos for lunch

and Stef started slicing up some pork to marinate

She had it on lock down

but I was cleaning up anyway

She said

Thanks for helping

I said, earnestly,

I know its not your favorite part

She agreed

That's the destructive part

I like the constructive part

I don't remember if I said it or not

but I, at least, thought

That's an interesting way to think about it

Went back out for a smoke

and took a solid look at the garden we planted

It looked real good

but it got us thinking about other projects

to beautify the backyard

We talked about creating spaces

the Shade Garden,

the Vegetable Circle,

not trying to manipulate the grounds

make things all forced and alien;

just clearly mark out lines

doing what little work is necessary

to make that space make sense

In the corner of the yard

in the far back left:

An old tenant had dug for a pool

must've been a real hack-job

dumped the dug-up earth

back there and since

the Bamboo has been spreading

covering the ignored mass

taking up a good 8th of the lawn

I told her I'd like to cut down some of that Bamboo

not all of it

just enough to create a clear enclosure

make a circular space

surrounded by the tallest stalks

shadowed by the canopy

I couldn't wait to get to work

I took out the big garden shears

and started

hacking away at it

I told her

I like the destructive part

She said

Its different

you're destroying things

to create a space

I replied

That sentence right there

is exactly what I mean by Deconstruction

The Plight of the Antihero

Fashion Fascination

Fashion Fascination

The dog eats things in the yard

I don't know what they are

but she never needs more then she takes

I've lost the will

For a minute there

I thought the wife had taken the only pack of smokes

and I was wrapped up in the usual blinding terror

of

Going to the Store

Then I realized

I left them in my coat pocket

and I was wrong to say those things

I say in my head

about

expectations

No one gets a fair deal with Hope

It's always a sacrifice

and nothing about sacrifice

ever works

Rhetoric

Pretend for a second

that you actually took everybody seriously

That's pretty much how it is

anyway

I know I owe a few of the very few you

something on the Metaphysics of Text

The word's getting around

should really start putting the pieces together

Shortened Manifesto

for K.

It's good to see we finally got it together

We've been a'searching too damn long

Remember me back to California

Days drinking in the Dark

We won't be back till next Decemeber

and its been too damn long

To go back now

Think about those things

which happen all the time

Aint it like they've happened before

Aint it like they'll never happen again

Cyborg Puppet Show Theatre

For A.

Know when you look into the tiny hearts of men

(no bigger than a fist, clenching

Every other beat

that old, malleable stone of certainty)

That what you see there is blind Terror

I would experiment with the sublim(inal)

We know the universe

is

an ever-expanding, undefinable, space

Yet nobody feels inclined to say the same

of

themselves

We are all behind the wheel

simultaneously

Music playing Loud

singing, screaming,

Hung out on the Line