Tuesday, August 18, 2009


I watch the water boil,
Bubbling up, ancient herbs scent the air.
I'm meditating. Looking for signs,
Wanting information, insight as to
What the world will bring.
"Show me" I ask, "what I need to know now."
Then I have an answer, something that i feel,
Contemplating love, and where it is.
Bubbling up. Then I have an answer
In the feeling of love.
Contemplating love and where it is.


Here is poetry. In a space, a place by itself, this lonely poem. This lonely poem, is searching for the words, the words to make some sense in this space.

And here is art, with all excitement and hopefulness. Hanging on the wall, waiting for poem to come along. and make some sense with words in this space.

Waiting for the poetry, this lonely poem to come across this art and recognize his face, because he’s in a place without words, a place by itself, this lonely place.

And here is beauty and hope and love. They are dancing in a circle arm in arm, spinning and laughing. They find the art and they find the poetry and they fill the space so it isn’t lonely and they lift us up with art and poetry to a place that is filled with words and images that is tempered by beauty and hope and love.

They’ve all gone off now… in search of music.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Erik Frandsen & Host singing at Café Vivaldi

A Night On The Town

Out last night – walking & subwaying all over the Downtown New York City East and West Side. Playing my dulcimer whenever possible and everybody within earshot seems to enjoy it. Started with playing 2 songs at my Saturn Series Poetry reading at Nightingale Lounge, then took the L crosstown & A downtown to west 4th st. (played in the station while waiting) to Café Vivaldi. Sit down to listen to the open mike Banjo player and I am handed a plate of Black Forest cake for the lovely singing hostess' birthday. Glass of Merlot goes well with that. Hearing some fun music and next there is Jim Petrie playing his guitar & song. He came to the music open mike I host recently (suggested by poet friend Puma Perl) and I also bumped into him at Falcon Ridge Folk Fest. So fun to run into people like this. I play one song at Vivaldi too, at the end of their open mike (i got my nerve up and asked since there were 2 cancellations and the lovely host was kind to let me in on the list.) I even remember to announce my book is at St. Marks Books and my open mike on wed. It turns out that "The Closer" is Erik Frandsen who’s sitting at the bar with sunglasses on, surrounded by several lovely young women of course. He chimes in about the open mike and the great feature. We’re treated to a marvelous short set of charming whit and wisdom from this master songwriter & finger style guitarist. Just wonderful. Erik then announces that he's coming to my open mike on Wed 8/5 to sit in with David Massengill (the feature) So maybe some of the others there will tag along. Getting more excited about Wednesday's event. Then I am off to the Ear Inn, seeing as it’s nearby and as they always have late music on Monday nites. Gratefully, I hear some Rockabilly & Western Blues from the Times Square Romeos including some Lefty Frisell songs & Buck Owens. Having some nice mussels in white wine sauce with a lovely glass of Malbec makes this hole in the wall visit even more enjoyable. Then I head over to Arturo's with the hope of hearing some great piano music from Harry Whitaker and others who may be sitting in with their instruments wanting also to sit in for a song, practicing Lullabye of the Leaves and In Other Words on the way there. (time for Jazz vocals – wouldn't expect to play the dulcimer there!) but they were closing, oh well. Then I wander by The Bitter End but they don't have anybody playing I want to hear, but I see the all night supermarket is open and stop in to shop for eggs & smoked salmon, then I head to Spring St. Station for the No. 6 train and play my dulcimer while waiting a long time. There are a lot of subway wreck & wreck crew hanging about waiting for something & some tourists liking my playing. Got off at 23rd street and people hanging out in front of what may be the only 7/11 in Manhattan waved hello to me (the lone musician) with their Slurpies in hand. Then to home. about 2 am. Wow, what a long walk that was. (and some subway) Thank you New York! Fun!

Sunrise at the Farm

Some Place I Keep Empty You Touched

Remembering you now; from three years ago,
yes, it was a surprise to meet you.
I was compelled to urge you to play your music.
When all along, you played for years. Good to know –
You have such friends to collect about you and love.
You came to play in the curved tent. Sleepy hours
In the walking minstrel night. I was asmile to see you,
hear you, you're intensity, your lovely face.
I wanted more yet how could that be?
Now your gentle blue eyes are in my thoughts. I will see them
For a long while. How it felt to look into them directly
Looking into me,
A comfort, a place to rest quietly, a person to love.
So close that eyes could meet, yet lips could not take the chance.
Yet a kiss with eyes so deep is as soft lips brushing.
I see you now. Our hands
Are touching gently.
I remember you now and wish for more.
How can that be?
Notes of music, a torn off piece of song
dance in sleepy drifts with glimpses of you peeking through
Avoiding you as long as possible till it was just too hard to walk by.
And you remembered too. Do you wish for more?
How can that be?