by James Brush
Year: 2011
I usually write about ACL Fest on this blog if only so that years later I can provide definitive answers to such questions as “Hey, did we see Allison Krause a few years ago?” by saying, “Why, let me consult the blog.” The answer is that we did see Allison Krause along with Robert Plant back in 2007. And we saw her again, though this time with Union Station on Saturday of last month’s fest.
It was a different kind of year this time around what with a baby and all. We didn’t bring him, but our festival time was dictated by the availability of grandparents to babysit and so, we made it down for only a few acts this year. On Saturday, we saw Allison Krause and Union Station (but you already know that), Gillian Welch (who according to the blog, we caught back in 2009) and my favorite from this year, TV on the Radio.
I first really listened to TV on the Radio this summer and really liked what I heard (their album, To Science). They struck me as a warmer, slightly funkier, Radiohead. Their show did not disappoint. In fact, I consider them the revelation for this year.
Between TV on the Radio and Stevie Wonder, we got a message that a dear friend had died much much too young. We hung around for Stevie Wonder (and probably would have left had it been anyone else) but the wind was blowing Stevie’s music away toward the city and My Morning Jacket was drowning him out from our place in the back. We could just make out “Higher Ground” as we quietly left Zilker Park.
We had no agenda for Sunday. We caught a few bands we hadn’t heard before and came home.
This year’s ACL was good, the weather was okay. No points for endurance as in 2005 or 2009. It wasn’t as good as 2010 (the best one ever), but it was good. Solid good. And that’s fine with me. Next year it will be in mid-October again, and we’re hoping we can bring the little guy along for at least some of the festival.
- Afternoon temperature. In the shade.
Slow & Coiling
drought doesn’t rage
like hurricanes or tear
the world like twisters
it’s a slow dismantling
of yellowed ecosystems
ash blown on wind
blind salamanders
blocks from a jenga tower
pulled one by one
cracks snake the earth
the quiet collapse of cattle
roaming mudpits, abandoned
fawns starving on roadsides
constellations of vultures
summer’s stars dark and full
silent silent sky
smoky whispers of a thousand
cigarette wildfires, sirens
a lone bat loops the dusk
where swallows and kingbirds
once flew toward trees
songless losing leaves
months before their time
tree rings tell futures
constricted bands
a snake coiling around
this thirsty dying land
A few years back, I put my duck in a row. I have more ducks now, a somewhat unruly lot especially those pirate ducks who’d just as soon start a row as get in a row, but they still row up pretty well. And when it’s 108 in the shade, they’re about the only birds I feel like watching.
bring water, electrolytes
this night will burn
heat and light
have come untwined
out on the porch
I call back the dogs
swift feet, darkness
panting shadows
sweat beads my forehead
the stillness of trees
leaves roasted
beyond autumn gold
pray for rain, ask
in secret for hurricanes
they claim this red moon
only reflects
Links to some poems by web-based writers whose work I’ve enjoyed lately. I hope you’ll follow the links and enjoy these poems as well.
“Cloudlonely” by Susan S. Keiser. This one just sounds so good. One to reread and savor.
“Morning” at Jumping Into Life (Not sure who the writer is). A perfectly captured moment watching birds and baby (much like my summer has been).
“Time’s Reflection” by Jean Morris. A lovely photo poem. The words and image could stand alone but together… wow.
“In Victimhood” by Horace Jeffery Hodges. A clever parody of “Invictus” and a reminder for me to get that flu shot.
“795 (Concrete)” by Angie Werren. A stunning “phoem” (as she calls them) appearing in her beautifully redesigned feathers micropoetry site. A good reminder to leave the RSS reader once in a while.
“Being” by Neil Reid. This one had me at the first lines: “there is a gate, we call it sky / when visible, we call it cloud”.
“If there were such things as ghosts” by Dave Bonta with a whole comment thread of very cool ghost poems by Dave’s readers.
“Mail Pouch” by Hannah Stephenson. I’m always amazed by the quality of Hannah Stephenson’s work considering she manages to write and post a poem every day. I had several I wanted to pick, but this was a favorite for the opening image of the barn and the faded letters. What is it about faded ads on old buildings anyway?
“from seeds here & in my backyard” by Carolee Sherwood. Wisdom gleaned from watching nature’s processes.
“The Bone House” by Wrensong. A moment by the sea: “the salt-scented blossoms of kelp / the song of whales and old wars.”
“Night Predator” by Sherry Chandler in The Cortland Review Issue 52.
“Indiana” by Dale Patterson in Right Hand Pointing Issue 43, Part1. Read the whole thing.
No one puts stock
in ghosts anymore.
But everyone has a story
that begins with I’m not crazy.
Maybe it’s the bridge on 97
or the creaky floorboard upstairs.
The chair they’ll swear was rocking,
or totems of the dead discovered
in strange forgotten corners.
Lights on the Devil’s Backbone.
Ghosts love these stories.
They know
there isn’t any darkness
more forsaken
than the end of memory.
—
This was inspired by Dave Bonta’s “If there were such things as ghosts”. Dave invited others to add poems to his post’s comment thread and the result is a wonderful mix of ghost poems. This is the one I came up with.
I made this back in March and never got around to uploading it and then forgot all about it until something sparked my memory yesterday. It’s based my poem of the same name, originally posted a little over a year ago. This is the second video I’ve made from my Birds Nobody Loves series (the first was “Chasing Westward”).
The images are photoshopped versions of some of my pictures of black and turkey vultures. I’m planning to use these as illustrations in the Birds Nobody Loves collection I’m slowly (so slowly) putting together.
The real purpose of this video was experimental. I wanted to try to figure out how to make my editing software do the “Ken Burns effect” that was so nicely done in “Beach/Snow” a beautiful video by Peter Stephens. It was complicated but once I had it figured out, it got a lot easier to get the pans and zooms I wanted.
The music is by Oleg Serkov downloaded from Jamendo and licensed under a cc-by-nc-sa license. This is the first time I’ve used Jamendo for music for a video. There’s a lot of good stuff there besides Mr. Serkov’s wonderful work.
As to the poem, it comes from the church I attended when I was in high school. It was built on the edge of a cliff overlooking Lake Travis. They built it lengthwise and placed the altar on the long side which was made entirely of glass so it was easy to let your mind wander out to the open sky above the lake where turkey vultures circled endlessly.
I’ve always found it strange that church is held indoors but that church anyway made it feel like you weren’t completely disconnected from the natural world, which is why I still consider it the most beautiful church I’ve ever seen.
It is also where my fascination with vultures began. Watching them each Sunday, thinking about their place in the scheme of things and watching their effortless flight, I couldn’t help but fall in love with them while witnessing in awe the sheer wonder and beauty of creation.
I lost nearly 10 pounds this morning shoveling the heat out of my driveway. It was 104 in the shade, and 108 on the road. This is our indoor time. We go out only when we must and don’t stay out long lest we catch a fire.
A few weeks ago, I left an apple in my car. I remembered it was there around lunchtime and went out to get it. It was perfectly baked and delicious. I’ve started keeping cinnamon in the glove box since the car is also an oven. They didn’t tell me this is what they meant by hybrid.
Lantana can burn your eyes if you stare at it too long. Most things are that way these days. This is why I walk with my head down, wincing with each step over the coals of parking lots. I wonder if this will lead to heat stroke or visions.
At night we eat a pot of salad and huddle round the ice box telling lies about the time it snowed.