Entertaining Angels
And I was tired Festival tired Too long a drive, too many hours of jamming And they were closing it down R.V. doors swinging shut Tent zippers opening and closing for the night And the lights went out one by one as I limped toward my rest Holding my guitar case just off the ground And wishing I was on the other side of fifty And there were no left over jams Except the Mighty Crows, way off in the distance And the moon was barely shining through the oaks And then I heard it before I saw it A guitar, soft and golden Playing some finger picking Americana thing There in the light of a single lantern And the picker was perched on the tailgate of a pick-up with a sleeping bag inside Painting magic in the mountain air And I was in sight of my tent And the rest promised with-in But I stopped transfixed Until I was drawn into the small camp-sight Unable to pass And I unsnapped my case and said “can I join you?” And he nodded And said, “What do you want to play.” And I said, “Whatever you’re playing” And we played, In this magic world We played without words And without end Flowing across the night Beautiful notes, drawn from the spirit Heart tones, without definition And I must have closed my eyes Because I heard a mandolin join in Filling, intertwining, soaring across the top And we wove melodies and harmonies, and bell tones Floating open strings, running and flying through the night For maybe a half hour to forty minutes As if time were still there And when the last note had drifted away We looked up and knew That we had been a part of something Beyond ourselves And I don’t know who they were And they probably don’t know me And who knows anything anyway I was too tired to think But perhaps, Perhaps we entertained angels Unaware
Aug 2007
Letting It All Out
I don’t care if I do it proper anymore I just want to feel it If it’s embarrassing, well drop your head And hide behind your hand I ain’t changing it to make it go down easy There’s rough edges on the glass And sometimes they draw blood But if you listen carefully That’s the sound Of the sunset And there’s a little bit of glory In this song
Mar 2009
Catfish Jack
I could see every star in Mendocino County through The netting of my tent And the night air reeked of magic The calluses on my fingers felt alive, throbbing from the memory of four plus hours of jamming and bending strings with the boys
It’s a perfect night and every dream starts with a fiddle playing slow The Sunday morning acapella group must have practiced all night long, I kept hearing their voices bleeding in through the zipper of the front door of my tent And it may have been dreams and it may have been angels and this ain’t heaven but God is here And it’s as close as it gets without praying And I’m not sure if God likes all those songs the cowboys in the corner are playing but I reckon he loves those cowboys anyway It’s sounding like maybe they’ve tipped a bottle or two, and me; I don’t drink or smoke the evil weed Because I lived through the sixties and the chemicals were not kind and that’s all I’ve got to say about that But if you can be high on being happier than anyone has a right to be, I think I’d qualify, And I’m listening Listening as I drift in and out of sleep Listening to the bluegrass drifting around and above the folds of my tent And I sleep like a man with a clean conscience
And it’s two o-clock in the morning And I hear this amazing blues harp hit the night air like a crazed freight train And it rumbles and thunders and wails And my eyes snap open and heart starts to pound And I’m thinking What is this wonderful sound intruding on my tranquil dreams? And he’s blowing like a raging river And he’s screaming like a wounded man And the night-lights up like a full neon moon And then…. Quiet Total stillness The kind that doesn’t allow you to breath
And I could see every star in Mendocino County through the netting of my tent And the night air reeked of magic And the irises were blooming And I’m alive Man, am I alive!
June 2002
The New Martin
I got the martin The only one The mahogany back And that beautiful blonde front Custom built with my name printed on the soul One I longed for from the beginning The one whose voice called whenever I walked near And I will hold her Like no one else could And listen to her resonate the vibrations of my heart And I will not play the Big Baby Taylor Though I loved her with reservations, Giving her much of what I had to give For I have an untrustworthy heart And I have found a new love
Feb 2006
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