Stone Hearted (from Prompt 19)

The feeling was scratched

on our weakened bark

Drip drop of a hell I never wanted to be a part of.

Yes, it came back to us this night. Of all nights.

The night of fog and clearing roads

Losing my favorite pebble

thrown around when it felt at times

jagged, sometimes,

or when it stole the warmth from my hands

and now the wet leaves

blue on my shoulders

ecstatic at my refusal to stay

constant as I challenge my direction

and the timpani between my eyes

and the heartbeat of the sluggish

curled up in your heart

where they have festered

all this time in your stead.

My skin imitates the moss in your head

where they last saw you

calm, still, in the forest

I almost relived your path

The crunching leaves

The limbs hopped

The hope limber still

Until the path spit us out

into thicket

Hard brush and rain ever constant

But I ran into the dark

heavied by the water

guessing for lights unseen

looking for paths unmarked

but in your stead

I found the precipice

j

Mote and Light (from Prompt 16)

A void of sun, floating in this shineless cavern

holding on to the grip as I held to the notion you would return

to find me

to relieve and relive

the cool spring of our friendship

upon which we lifted

and hovered weightless

at one point in time, ascending

upward and nearing an illumination

that felt like you

and I cherished that hope as a yard void of insects

A continued affliction

that makes your smaller

to mean less

and meaningless

until the limbs

over-extended and distant

from the teasing invitation

so close to memory and artery

now fancies itself artillery

threatening the mote

thinning

weightless

suspended


Poetry and whatever else comes to mind based on my #icprompts on Instagram!

j

Noteworthy 8.2.19

Hi there! Here’s a few awesome links to wind down this hectic week:

  1. I caught this one long ago when I was in one of my editing late nights, so I thought I would share this now. This is a lovely conversation between George Saunders and Jeff Tweedy that inspires like no other. It made me want to pick up a pen and start unraveling story. Great wisdom from two masters.
  2. The Working Songwriter is a podcast from musician Joe Pug. I had the great pleasure of seeing him live at the Oyster Ridge Music Festival and he just blew me away. His craft and presence as he delivered such beautiful songs left a good dent in my heart. A truly memorable time was had! I’ll be checking the backlog of his podcast episodes, in which he interviews fellow songwriters and discuss the craft of songwriting.
  3. Regarding the Steppenwolf revival of True West, the most influential play of my playwriting life. I would have killed to see this play in the flesh on that Chicago stage in 1982.
  4. This year, working on getting my poetry back on track has been a priority. Starting with the basics as I get to know how I can work in the medium and what I can do to get better, and more resilient. Here’s a little recap I found of Pablo Neruda I liked.

And I leave you with a great tune that hit VH1 when I was growing up, obsessed with music videos. Also, a 90s RDJ starring in a peculiar, one shot video. Have a great weekend, friends.

j

In Progress on a Busy Day

Check out #icprompts on Instagram. I’m sharing some of my photos as prompts. Coming soon to Idleblog too!

Percussion & Repetition x 11.

The formula to something ritualistic and guttural? I don’t know for sure, but I’ve had these phrases stuck in my head for a while. I used to record and experiment plenty with sound, but I haven’t had the chance recently. I do want to lay some tracks down for a few song ideas which are going to become a narrative. I should add, most of the work I do recording demos revolves around creating a story-based songs. I love that feeling of telling a tale that unfolds like rain drops collecting as a puddle; constant, rhythmic and somewhat unfiltered. This concept I’m tinkering with may be an offshoot of a demo album I recorded long ago, called Headphone Music for Nowhere People. It feels similar, perhaps it’s because I hear electric guitar and noise which feels like it belongs in a post-apocalypse, like in that old album.

The Flood, from Headphone Music for Nowhere People (2009)

I’ve thought about recording it on my lunch hour, since I have to go home and see how the cats are doing. Recording demos is really the last thing I should be doing so it doesn’t help to try to cram it in right now. I should probably reserve my lunch time for self care and time to pause momentarily. I’m troubled by my inability to slow down. I can’t blame the coffee either. The mind just wants to race and commit every spare thought to developing a story. Perhaps I need to convince myself once again, that writing and recording is my therapy, and one that yields continuous joy.

I’ll keep you posted,

j

All

All of these beautiful people

All of these people that walked the earth

And the salt of our tongue, resisted

The hall of demons in afterbirth

All of these people that walked the earth

All of these people that walked the earth

And did the Shaman run to the fire?

All of these people that walked the earth

And did the hollow gram of desire

Find you the consequence of your worth?

All of these people that walked the earth

All of these people that walked the earth

You find me not in the short carousel

You find me spiraling down the well

With all these people that walked the earth

Your dream as common as prairie dirt

And I am certain it’s what we deserve

All of these people that walked the earth

All of these people that walked the earth

All of these people that walked the earth

Noteworthy Links

This song has been stuck in my head all week. Welcome to Throwback Country.

Hope America’s birthday weekend is going well for you all! Just wanted to share a few links I found illuminating and/or interesting. Also, having them here will be useful to check out later. Thanks for stopping by!

1. The Daily is becoming my go to podcast for current events and general discontent. This episode of the detention center in Clint, TX about made my blood boil. Not the best way to start the week, but no way to avoid it anymore. No matter the circumstance, we are talking about children: Toddlers, babies, young lives forever broken for the sake of politics.
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/01/podcasts/the-daily/migrant-children-border-detention-clint-texas.html

2. This one just makes me so thrilled to be working on a brand new, poetry-based iteration of my Creative Drive podcast. Oh how much fun would it be!

https://www.npr.org/2019/06/29/737073800/podcasts-are-providing-a-new-way-into-poetry

3. And this New Yorker article just turns me into a pendulum of love and hate for Instagram. I’m conflicted and I’m afraid I don’t know if IG is doing poetry good or if it even matters. Social media makes me fairly existential, if you haven’t noticed…

https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/yrsa-daley-ward-breaks-out-of-the-instapoetry-pack-with-her-memoir-the-terrible

4. Late into Wednesday night, I had the 90s classic “Barely Breathing” on repeat and still going strong. I wondered what had been of Duncan Sheik outside of Spring Awakening. He always struck me as an incredible talent, but on a whim, I went down the youtube rabbit hole and found this performance, which really highlights his work as a songwriter of the highest caliber. Hope you enjoy as much as I did.

5. Lastly, I found this story illuminating on what’s happening to our neighbors in Gillette. About six hundred employees went in to work Monday morning and were sent home. I’ve been pondering this the entire week and I hope we can come together as a state-wide community and help any way we can. 

https://www.wyomingpublicmedia.org/post/meltdown-started-coal-bankruptcy-dramatically-unfolds?fbclid=IwAR2hF_srkH3_Ab13EQoQurJknnTAaaJNe2XX7KRfdjCqUprh5LGbe1XrySQ#stream/0

Hope to stay up and work on something. I’ll keep you posted!

j

A Shine

Transcend with me you fool

you flesh and bone

I too was a carnivore

wet and eager for sinew

at the dawn of a century

expired at the hands of gusts

the sand in my eyes

and cradled infants

sun-kissed at the mountains

that faced west

She lowered her head and gaze and

i

followed without you

into The Resplendent

26

hair-like

roots of string

they had to lie still, to survive

the hope of many

trembling in a tempest

seen from the high branches

little wonders

and hops instead of steps

cuddle close to huddle in the end

a little hide and run for cover

eyes green with the currency of time

delicate limbs in the current

the last moments, a blunt howl

the shattering canopy reveals the burning sun

the rattling leaves

the devastating fear

ripping the seedlings from earth

a coarse malevolence

disgrace of man

tender they seem in this light

the root of the tallest tallow

suffocates the ones in need

and at its most alive

when defending its shade

disgrace in these branches

in the old stoic timber

disgraced by their silence

at the sight of their fallen

the woods at their best

what else did we expect?

j

For you: you are missed and loved and you will not be forgotten.

Charlotte

Daniel

Olivia

Josephine

Dylan

Madeleine

Catherine

Chase

Jesse

Ana

James

Grace

Emilie

Jack

Noah

Caroline

Jessica

Avielle

Benjamin

Allison

Rachel

Dawn

Anne

Lauren

Mary

Victoria

https://mysandyhookfamily.org/

https://everytown.org/