11.4.13

No time like the penguin

dear delta blues and its modern brothers,
the evening is savannah will be when it cools down enough
for a few hours of good, honest work on the home, I will experiment in
the shop, glue some some patterned top-blanks and the lining of a guitar
while smog or son house plays, i'll pen images and phrases as i work,
and work too late for how how early i'll arise.
Jay or erik or kelsey will be over often in the evenings,
I'll make-shift some drafting tables until i come up with my own design,
and they'll draw and drink coffee between helping me refinish the floor
in the next room. Jay will sing the delta blues on the porch once we've
finished the banister, and out comes the beer and new friends will stop by
and say 'so this is it?- this is what keeps you away form the parties
and I'll say 'let me give you a tour of my boat'
I will finally have the time and aloneness to record music again,
and the small guestroom will double as a good, small space for that.
friends will stop through, peter will record his next album there,
Eliza will record her first.

these are evening things
but the mornings are what hold the reading and writing
that have been pent-up for four years.
frensh-pressed coffee and breakfast with the birdcalls
letters for friends i've left, or who've left me,
walking through the tarp-and-sawdust house
to see what i finished the night before,
and what comes next.
several days a week, going to work.
no television, no internet,
friends to be ambitious with my garden
a new pair of shoes




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