BliBlog

Coffee

2011-01-13T07:48:00.000-08:00

It’s written out in drops of rain

The sky of blue has turned to gray

An editor has seen the weather change

Cups and saucers on the table

A group of letters come together

Inside the line the love is everywhere

Looks like we’re in for some rain

Colors fade in the sky of your mind for a change

The coffee is poured

The pages are turned

From a story you are marking one more time

The slipping and sliding of dripping time

The turning and stirring of coffee grinds

Could turn rain falling from the sky

Upside down

Ancient reed in a modern word

The words uncage the ancient birds

Flying towards the one who heard this voice

And one whoes voice was heard

It’s written out in drops of rain

Streetcar Track

2011-01-13T07:11:00.000-08:00

Taxi cabbage riding

streetcar tracks

A tale of woe

just under

a toe of whale

Silent mania

gray chairs blue lights

Jumpin’ Jack Lambert in the dark bar

getting paid to play cause that was that

cracked dinosaur legs and all night cabs

burning talking wood and a bag of grass

Radio high

Steel mill horses and all the old kingsmen

Humpty bumpty sat in a shady way

Dry wool socked and stock taped

back yard garage

Ghost pipes

Rosebuds and notebooks

Blue smoke

Dirt fields and falling rain

broken toy planes

Winter Song

2011-01-13T06:55:00.000-08:00

There is a winter song

that gets in my head

I see a hill of winter trees

and I can hear the river bed

Your body is water

from a faraway river

you are what you are

and it's making me sad

Between the sweet and the bitter

there is a song of winter

it chills the old winemaker

and the mouse that loves the baker

Dark juice from a grape

is bound to fall

Your eyes of air

are surely going to fall

Your heart of snow

is blowing in the winter wind

and beating in my ear

like a winter song

I see the nothing that's not there

and the nothing that is

you are what you are

and its' making me sad

Gerry

2011-01-13T06:50:00.000-08:00

Gerry Gerry

she was contrary

An elderberry

well worn and wary

A part of everything she believed

in less than she could see and more than what she wore

In here for certain or else the bottom drawer

Just pick up sticks from a nearby tree

Now stack the dishes inside the sink

Flow like the air and you’ll be free

First put your hands on your hips

and then put them in the air

now put your left-foot here

and keep your eyes on the berry

Peace Song

2011-01-13T06:36:00.000-08:00

It was 60 years ago today 

radio said: peace everywhere , put away your fear 

not so long ago another peace got put away 
with marbles and comics from another day

the peace they promised yesterday was more like a ghost 

 a dreamy song

 a freak on the street who just turned away , just looked the other way

 opaque and oblique 

 a nincompoop in an endless loop 

strangled like a promise

tossed like a marble in a puddle 

choking like a bubble

twisting like a top

in another time peace was free like breathing air

nobody was fighting for breathing air

the answer there is a question here 

how can ~love be peace~ 

when peace is a shadow from an old dark comic 

spinning off like a comet through a dark glassy puddle ?

Ghost Hop

2011-01-12T15:18:00.000-08:00

About a quarter to eleven

we hit the floor again

it wasn’t very long

we were long long gone

we were talking and rocking and creeping and seeping

we were messing and testing in the pale starlight

of a blank old twilight

the sinking old sky

we felt under our feet now

Cause the house was poppin’

when the doors flew open

and the wind was howling

at the Ghost Hop Hop

Now at eleven eleven

when the clock was talking

and the cork was poppin’

with the Ragtime juices

All the bottles were open

at the Ghost Hop rocking at eleven eleven

The curtains are flowing at eleven eleven

The clock stops ticking at eleven eleven

The band stops counting at eleven eleven

yeah the Ghost Hops hoppin' at eleven eleven

Forest Story

2011-01-12T14:56:00.000-08:00

We took your old two-door into the city

It was a chorus of foresty voices

city side-walks rose like a dark choir

the parks and the river rose higher and higher

out the rear window

radio wave on your forehead

a foresty dashboard

dark water and sleep on the floorboard

forest story wasn't always easy

we took it tree by tree

we took it steadily

Accidental incidents in the middle of the city

were never really close at all

never late and never early

Humming like a sanctuary

Steaming like a winterberry branch

Stretched out on a library floor

Your little blue two-door took us there

For rest in the city... forest

Paula's Song

2011-01-12T14:48:00.000-08:00

Hi Ho Paula

I’d really love to call you

Something you’ve been cooking

has made me think it over

Sweet magnolia clover

Sizzling creamy butter

That homemade aroma

When you turn that clover over

Inside your moistened skillet

That lucky frying pan

You’ve turned up the heat

Now let’s start cooking

We’ll all come by around dinnertime

to watch the Georgia skyline

Smell the country cobbler pie

that’s rising in your oven

Deep fried bubbly things

Everybody’s gonna’ laugh and sing

Drippin’… and Siippin… and Lickin’…!

Hi Ho Paula

I’d really love to call ya’

something you’ve been cooking

just felt so right

Now tell us when

and we’ll be right on over

Just tell us when

and we’ll be right on by

Gray Song

2011-01-12T14:34:00.000-08:00

The night we met outside the show

you said what's gone is gone and yet

You were thinking about what a friend had said

Gray letters you write can never be read

The ink in a pen

in the palm of your hand

won't mean a thing

or turn a feather into lead

It won't tap the ground like a shoe

Or dry like ink on a pillow

a thought in your head

that beats like a drum

in a song

on the tip of your tongue

There is a gray song inside us now

so we look for the gray leaves

I saw you collecting the gray leaves

I knew you were humming that tune

tapping your toes

like you were at the opera

or the rodeo..

I guess I'll always think of you that way

Spring

2010-06-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

Picture of the umpire

fast ball never seen

rain soaked grass

math tracks on empty fields

Cracked neck thunder on oak trees

broken branch the gardener’s concession

Forecasts and footstools

waist high benches

chaise lounge knee deep

Diary of bodies dust cloud backstands

mirror handed thumbs

lopsided slides

curved stiched blankets

push carts striped suits silver rabbits

home safe

Rubber Vendor

2010-06-27T09:35:00.002-07:00

On roads from here to never there is a rubber vendor

a receiver and a sender

a map inside his shoe

A decal from a ball-gum dispenser

a service call from a ghost

a set of keys and a route

Note cards from a deadman’s chest

a box for the boss in the trunk

a message for a not so great pretender

A code for the road

another county to cross

another location just can’t be lost

Balloon man don’t fall

watch the sink don’t come off the wall

when you stand on it to reach the nixpix lock

and refill the slots

and sharpen the tooth

Watch the keys in your pocket don’t fall

and crack the pins till you can’t back in

A slug in the slot

a bump on the head

down off the sink

the snow is falling

into a jammed mechanism

the machine is working and back on the wall

another service call down the road

rubber vendor

Mostly Movies

2010-06-27T09:35:00.000-07:00

It could be real-life

but it doesn't sound like it

The cigarette lighter you saved to forget her

the 39 steps it took till you met her

The phone clicks like an old see-saw

a seed-pops in the popcorn bowl

There is a car-radio book behind your couch-- inside out

you talk to me

I ask you to read nine number dial-tones and smoke

you offer me one then ask me to leave

to turn out the lights before I go

or else stay till the end of the late-late show

Seems more like make-believe

but there's nothing in the sleeve

If the programs don't change

we can sleep while footsteps creep

and shadows get rolled up like sleeves down a black and white hall

A match is struck

mostly movies

Straw Goblin

2010-06-27T08:51:00.000-07:00

You spin a wheel in a mystic key

that turns every word

from straw into gold

It spins past what you are sweeping

and what you are thinking

The light in your coat

rolling off the static

twisting around the poison

seeping through the windows

losing count

I couldn’t stop

if I tried and tried

Straw Goblin's dry

but it won't let go

It stays in the dark beside you

you can hear the breathing

Skeleton key and amnesia

maybe I just need her

Gorbyblock

2010-06-22T12:13:00.000-07:00

When I start to feel defeated

fed up w/ microscopes and cell-fate

I take my bicycle right down the stairs

into the city streets

I'd open my eyes just to invent you

find a disguise I can see through

White mice and iodine...? maybe another time

aah... a sweet and sour molecule

moving like a galaxy

a book of recipes

a breath or two and she was just like smoke to me

I saw you turn a corner at Union-Square

I'm pretty sure you saw me standing there

I tried to follow you but lost you after several blocks

down a street that once was called the Gorbyblock

We stopped and watched the block become the Gorbyblock

It's so hard to find your body and soul

cause I lost you in the crosstown traffic

Bring your body to my soul

Deliver me from this spiritual insecurity

I saw you ridin' through the street like you're swimming in the ocean

Your voice sailed over cars and cabs

It sounded like slow motion

You see me standing still and staring at a tree

looking at the way you made a picture out of me

i felt so drawn...

When i turned back from the tree to the city streets you were gone

Take this message to my soul

Deliver me from my

surrealistic, cabalistic, synesthetic,

kaleidoscopic, rocketscienced, cell-fated ride...

September Blues

2010-06-20T00:04:00.000-07:00

Something's troubling a girl in a white dress walking

through the syrian rue

night sky falling

in the burning city

A language she can't read

Dark constellation unhinged from its black ice

A new alphabet of stars and bone

She cannot stop to rub her eyes

The moon's rising now through her black hair

Foreign Music

2010-06-19T23:58:00.000-07:00

Talk sad master of goings

play the joke of the painted corner

Grave consents forgotten constantly

Lost inside the Blue Triangle

Drum to hum the guru’s brain

Breath to breath

Bells through a pounding near

Silently disappear

Round again

Black coffee around again

Pause to pass the tack test of critical thumb

Bounded in icy water

Cotton caves, garden waves
Painting corners, dreaming all day

Returning what is going

The Oblong Song

2010-06-19T23:51:00.000-07:00

In her cabinet she had often left

what she never could before

and she was very sure

in the afternoon she made other plans

For a moment there was nothing more

The look in her eyes was a fading reminder

The knock on the door was a total surprise

The crumbs in the kitchen

the map on the wall

For a moment that was all she saw

She sat at the table and folded her hands

closed her eyes and remembered the song

A story from another land

Nothing's left behind but what's gone is gone

A breath is a breath in the oblong song

Breath in easy breath in long

Witch Cake

2010-06-19T23:47:00.000-07:00

It starts with water and a wooden bowl

shake up the spices outside the bowl

Wrap up in paper

Burn up the paper

Mix in what you know and what you’re knowing

There's only breathing that remains

No way to tell what will remain

just mix the dry up with the wet

a hundred years is a long long time

So breath it in and what remains

is often not what you expect

A junkyard fire

or a sacrament

If it wears you out and

you don’t know where

and you can’t resume

cause you cannot hear

What is left unspoken

in a code of smoke

or sealed up in an envelope

You can see within

what is rawley baked

Remove it soon or it will be too late

Wall Paper

2010-06-19T23:44:00.000-07:00

She sat by the window

The closer she looked at it

The farther she got from it

cause the thought that she brought to the window

got lost in it…

The stars are no closer

or bleeker or dimmer

Each eye that is closing is an opening eye

The part that’s uncovered is the one that remains

Dark doorways

Unfixed and out in the hall

Stirring back the feedback

one page at a time

Scribbling orbits

Planet gravity and low light

You are not who you are not

You are the star that does not remain in the windowpane

and the one that does remain

Astral Must

2010-06-19T23:41:00.000-07:00

Turn on the light in the middle of the night

just step outside yourself you said

Do it backwards and forwards

Breath in the astral must

You can see what I don’t

turning over and falling away

A lost child face to face with day after day

What you see is what you’ll see

Bullwinkle and Houdini --- it’s Rocky at first to me

The soul fills the whole and not just the center

the outside body calling in

The rabbit in the hat was gone in a second

The light in the night was never a trick

It jumped from the center flew off at your knuckle

Clawed into the ceiling curled onto the floor

Paper Wall

2010-06-19T23:38:00.000-07:00

There is a paper wall you were saving for later

on the other side of your coming and going

with a shelf full of letters and plants on the left side

a painted mirror on the right

Moon whip Ice bone

Rose wing, Skull tree and Spindle

Bookworm

2010-06-19T10:25:00.000-07:00

Her arctic mind

ice cold attic window

Her desert heart

a toy in the basement

Holy sand the dreaming way

a record sleeve rung frozen played

Ringing icy hill, snowy olive bell

don't hold your breath for a second or less

underwater is no place to breath

With a pile of dirt in the palm of your hand

you can find yourself in the wrong place

Plug in the wires

a mechanical dream

moth webbed morning hours

cold eyes

shine little bookworm

Chance

2010-06-16T10:49:00.000-07:00

The first eye ends wetter

and blacker

under a closing lid

Forgotton like a little buried wheel

hissing it's last bit of air

spun numbers stirred

beneath her skin brimming

sour slides and flooding

False landing promises

lonely cashier rung glasses

lost off the pocket side

dialing prints on window blinds

loaded dice in lucky hands

Wire Doll

2010-06-16T10:42:00.000-07:00

Wire doll called me in her way

on her ouija phone

even when I wasn't home

yeah, she made me feel that way

Wing-worm--took it slow

no point in rushin' or talkin' about it

no , she never talked about it

she just sewed a button on my shirt

yeah she sewed the way the caterpillars rise up from the dirt

Wire-worm--- you broke in two

headlines, going down

a garden wire

left out below

an open gate

not so long ago

In the back of a trance

Wing wood

Wire tree

a ticking wire heart

a burning hexagram

a wire book of chance

in the wire fingers of her hands

Wire doll

called me in her way

even when she lost the plan

A wire-dream

two little wings

she made me feel that way

The Boss

2010-06-15T13:41:00.000-07:00

In the 1980’s and 90’s I worked quite a bit as a free-lance pianist. One week an agent booked me at a club on Bay Street in Staten Island. I drove over the Verrazano Bridge in my V.W. Dasher, found the club, parked unloaded, set up a P.A around a little upright piano – and started to play what I thought would be just another gig. After the 4 scheduled hours I unplugged and started packing up when the maitre d came over and said:

“ Wait …. ! The Boss has really enjoyed your music and would like you to stay and play some more.”

I had another booking the next morning and didn’t want to get home too late, but I plugged back in for the overtime. After the set, I attempted to pack up when I was again approached.

" He wants you to keep playing. It’s ok, if you take a break… "

I thanked him, but said I really had to get going since I had another performance in the morning.

" He’s going to take care of you …!"

I thanked him again, and graciously said I wasn’t available.

“You don’t seem to understand. The Boss likes your music, and he’ll take care of you. Please do yourself and everyone the favor of setting back up.”

So, I set back up.

During the break, the valet who was rather cold when I arrived seemed really interested to talk to me.

“Where did you learn those songs…? and I think I know how you got so good… … I’ve been playing guitar for years ...” etc…

I decided it was time to play and started another set. The crowd was thinning out – and I just assumed that would be that, however when I started unpacking after what was already a long night, the maitre d returned :

"Play another set! "

I’m sorry, but I ‘ve got to go. I said .

"The Boss will take care of you."

I, understand, thank you – but I’m already half packed up and nobody’s here.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s not up to you. …Don’t worry he’s going to take care of you. “

I set back up – played another 15 minutes or so – as the last few tables emptied out. At that point The Boss emerged from the office – with a girl half his age – and took a seat at the bar near the piano. The maître d then locked the doors from the inside. There were now several drinks and a pistol on the bar. I was worried. The Boss looked like pictures I had seen of Scarface – but he really did seem to enjoy the standards and pop tunes I was playing. He talked privately with the girl for a while longer – and playing it like a full- house I thanked the crowd of two and said goodnight.

“Before you go – I want you to play 3 more songs.” not even asking if I knew them . "That Old Black Magic, Lady is a Tramp, and My Way."

I played the first two --- but didn’t know the words to My Way. After Lady is a Tramp – I became the center of attention and heard The Boss say to the girl:

"Now listen carefully to the words of My Way, cause it’s MY life. "

I noticed the revolver on the bar, and thought to myself --- ok...

And now, the end is near ….

I heard myself singing,

And so I face the final curtain…

Despite the fact I was sure I couldn’t remember the lyric. I guess I passed the audition – cause, he handed me several hundred dollars and I was finally allowed to leave.

The agent called Monday . "What did you do there? They want you to play steady weekends…! "

I never went near the club again – however I remember not long after that reading in the paper that the place was destroyed and The Boss had been murdered.

Frank Zappa Interview

2010-06-13T16:37:00.000-07:00

In high-school a friend and I went to see the Mother's of Invention at a small theatre in Pittsburgh's Oakland district ( near where the Pirates used to play at old Forbes Field ) In a successful ploy to get backstage and meet Frank Zappa - we announced that we were reporters for the high-school newspaper who of course knew nothing about the concert let alone the interview . We snagged a bespectacled girl - and asked if she would transcribe the interview to make it look more authentic. She actually knew a kind of short- hand --- not the common kind however, and performed that function during the meeting / interview . George Duke warned me personally before entering the dressing room :

“ This had better be a real interview …..! “

The Frank Zappa Interview --- Pittsburgh , PA sometime in the early part of the mid 1970's...

Zappa : Would you like some malted - milk drops ?

Wow ! thanks , can we have more than one ?

Zappa : no response

Thank you for talking to us - Great show tonight !

Zappa : Thanks

Where you trying to resemble Ringo Starr in 200 Motels ?

Zappa : Is that supposed to be a humorous question ?

now that sounds like a humorous answer .

Zappa :You can take it any way you want

How would you characterize the difference between a hole and a bridge ?

Zappa : Everything is Everything and that's the most philosophical thing you are going to get out of me .

At that point three shy giggling girls came to the dressing room door
and introduced themselves as Rosylyn, Gerry and Mary, but in all the clamour it wasn't so clear. My friend and co-faux reporter then suggested it was “ Roger Maris “ which completely diffused
Zappa who thought the reference to the great Yankee slugger was very funny .

Have you ever studied music formerly?

Zappa : No , I used to go to the library after school and read books on orchestration and composition

How did you like working with Lennon ? ( I asked - not knowing what a disaster it was for Zappa .)

Zappa : trying to underplay the experience : I've played with lots of musicians

Not satisfied, we asked several more Lennon related questions but I don't remember any direct answers -just an unwillingness to talk about the subject.

I love Let's Make The Water Turn Black -- from one of your early records...
( I didn't know it was called We're Only in it for the Money at that time which didn't seem to bother Frank however and he came to life at the mention of that song .

Zappa : That was a true story !!

How much drug use is there on the raod ?

Zappa : I never use drugs .

End Interview --- or end of my memory of the interview ....

I do remember that nobody including Duke ever kicked us out or even asked us to leave -- so it seemed a little awkward when we decided it was time to go and left on our own.

We did take a few more of those malted milk ball drops for the road.