January 11, 2017
Aidan Haley included my poem Healing Hermann Hesse in a kickass video
for The Shadow Campaign. Don’t watch this if ya hate beautiful stuff.
January 8, 2017
Am remembering exactly where I was sitting when I wrote this song down twenty-two years ago.
Huntsville, TX. My bedroom. Seeing things for the first time.
In the space between waterfalls and fireworks I am trying to find sufficient words to express thanks
for the Rijn IJssel film students in Arnhem, Netherlands, who chose to make something lovely of it.
December 25, 2016
In seventh grade I prayed for wisdom while taking a shit on the toilet and crying about how much pain I was in for wanting a man to live in my body instead of the suffering and the puppy and the girl who did. My body lived in Baytown, TX. The old side of Country Club. A bike ride away from a dead strip mall, humid on the blacktop, holes in that. Praying For Time by George Michael is still the soundtrack for the first time I asked an idol for wisdom. Jesus Christ.
What a year. We get it. You and your friends hate 2016. Even though you sidle up to tragedy every chance you get. Me? Surprised myself. Didn’t give much energy to it. Detached. Mind the gap. I got respect for all of them who passed. David Bowie. Harper Lee. Leonard Cohen. Especially Leonard. Remove my hat and watch my head tilt, Muhammad Ali. Merle Haggard. Didn’t even let the death of the American presidency press me to comment. If this is what the collective conscious needs to gain consciousness, bring it. But I did feel the wind leave my body for a minute when George Michael died tonight.
Wasn’t all that femininity he had to wear; how it looked like the same reason I got called a fag every day for the way I walked, and talked, and the interests I had back then, way before I wanted anyone to know they were right about me. Wasn’t how happy George Michael made my mom with his song at the skate rink. Wasn’t his whole catalogue. Because it wasn’t. Was the way he’d stolen from the radio down to my tape deck, then into the cassette player in the bathroom, then sang Praying For Time while I was on the toilet taking a shit and begging God to give me so much wisdom I couldn’t ever be sad again.
Man, I can’t do Praying For Time tonight. So I put Colter Wall on instead. Sleeping on the Blacktop. Lessen my sense catches up with me.
December 23, 2016
The white rabbit is said to be a symbol of human beings who are pompous and belittling toward anything they deem less valuable than themselves, yet they grovel to accommodate anyone from whom they stand to gain. To what end are you gaining? I’m not speaking to our governments. I’m speaking to the way we govern ourselves. Make a stopwatch live up to its name. We are not late for an important date. We have simply shown up too early for the next life and forgot to knock. Forgot that the future does not want us to arrive. It knows that if we do, it dies.
As if people on stilts really need you to offer them more gravity.
December 6, 2016
Go right at all the yeses.
Here’s where I’ll meet you:
Banff Centre for Spoken Word Program April 17-29