You can’t hang songs on a wall. You can hang a poem on a wall but it’s not the same. After I print this photo in my darkroom, it will show at an exhibition next month, and it has me thinking about my place in the world as an artist. My dad bought me a …
But don’t be an asshole. The art is not about you. You are the vessel. Do not decide that you are an ‘artist.’ Decide to craft art.
A poem about things going on around here.
Played in first paid band at 15. Sundays at the South Inn Bar in Bay City, Michigan. Haly Quartet. Bluegrass (with electric bass). We played Bill Monroe and Bela Fleck tunes while my dad sat proudly at the bar with a glass of beer.
The ball was hard hit. The ball was going to fall on the grass and be a hit. It was a fair ball. Either way you slice the pie the pie gets eaten. The other day a squirrel fell out of a tree and died in the backyard. He had black …
Back in, Forward Out i greased up that ball and rolled it into the crowd in the outfield standing area and then maggs was up and i ran to the car and got out of there while the city dreamt anyway that was witchcrafft or just a greasy ball rolling into the stadium i …
Reading from a collection of poems I began in 2012, America the Great Watch this video on YouTube