Blog
The King of August
He rode over ConnecticutIn a glass coach.Once, a fear pierced him,In that he mistookThe shadow of his equipageFor blackbirds.
—Thirteen Ways of L...
The King of July
I know noble accentsAnd lucid, inescapable rhythms;But I know,too,That the blackbird is involvedIn what I know.
— Wallace Stevens, “Thirteen Wa...
The June Queen
“Mom–Look at the Boid!”“It’s not a ‘boid,’ son, it’s a BIRD.”“But Ma…it choips like a boid!”
– Overheard in Prospect Park, Brooklyn.
Hey–
My pa...
The November Queen
“Hope is the thing with feathers.” –Emily Dickinson
Hey–
In almost every text about hobos I’ve read they’ve mentioned the sounds of birds. For...
The Cannery Row Scarecrow
“Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream.”
— John Ste...
The Mad House Scarecrow
“We die of cold, and not of Darkness” –Unamuno
Hey–
One of my heroes in the poetry world is Mark Turcotte, the Chippewa poet and author of Expl...
The Gray Angel
Hey–
My dear friend Steve Earle’s new record Townes was released today. It is a gorgeous recording of Townes Van Zandt‘s songs done by Steve. ...
The Devil’s Scarecrow
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,Listening to others, considering well what they say,Pausing, searching, receiving, contempla...
The Healer
In a conversation I had years ago with the late, great bluesman John Lee Hooker, I asked him about his song, The Healer. He cocked his head an...
A No. 1
“Chicago is the greatest railway center in the United States. No one knows these facts better than the hobo. It is a fact that trains from all poi...
The Penny Poker Bird
“Never play cards with a man named Doc, never eat at a place called “Mom’s”, and never sleep with a woman who is in more trouble than you are.”
—...