April 5th, 2021. I’m a lucky boy.
I haven’t figured this out in my head yet. But I guess I’ve been privileged enough NOT to have to figure it out in the past. Years ago I left
April 4th, 2021. Easter of Rage.
I consumed on Facebook the other night. Something I generally avoid doing. But for ONCE the algorithms had it right and popped Glen Phillips of Toad the Wet Sprocket up
Rain.
It’s 7:00 Sunday morningand we’re searching for rainash and dust on our tonguesheaven-turned we are searching for rain tossed and turned we have burnedthe sight of brown dirt in to
Selkie.
I played six strings to the harbourin six foot waves the music creptand she stared at nothing from another six strings but there’s a tower here that I’ll cut downI’ll
Playground.
The mud stains denimand we slipped upon the slidesteel seemed so innocent those days a stain now marks where the swings used to standwhere a man once stood there stands
The Feast of Thick and Thin
So I’ve got these things that eat me up insideI’ve got these things that chewI lied when I said that all of this helpsthe words just concrete all the lies
Coal Boulder.
Coal Boulderred hot & blackburning none too cleanly Coal Boulderroll on backcrushed a new Life todayand no he won’t look back I wasstanding simpleI wasstanding proudI was hand in handI
Twitch
finding clear water isn’t too easyin city streets determined to be harshfinger tips reach out in half-desirethey retract in disappointment with guitar strings brokenand skins worn down to the boneI
TORCH
stick to your skinand hold on tightand tell me we’ll make it homealright tonightthat firelight it could’ve been ussome nights I wish it were stick to your teethyour guns and
March 30th, 2021. I told me so.
I’m watching vaccine availability. I’ve got the FOMO. I hate the term “Fauci ouchie” but would Love to get in line for one and just realized that because I’m technically