|
chicken fried:
jimmie rodgers on the stereo singing that ‘blue yodel number seven’
tell me something I don’t know, I’m trying to make a life worth living
salt and pepper in the buttermilk,
haven’t had a drink since way last tuesday
baking powder in the flour pan,
I’m breaking down trying to call my sponsor
how long til the new man grows?
buttermilk on the chicken thighs, singing ‘my rough and rowdy ways’
roll ‘em round in the flour pan, brother I’ve got the power to change
yellow eyed reptile brain, scalding in the water of the seventh day
pull my feathers, cut me up, throw me into the oil til my pieces float
how long til the new man grows?
please mr. brakeman, let me keep riding your train
come on mr. brakeman, let me keep riding your train
because it sure is cold and it looks like it’s going to rain
comb ridge:
how many times does a weaver work the shuttle back and forth
the red and yellow threads that make the broadcloth
how many times does the seamstress’ thimble thread the needle through
to sew the seam snug as my belonging unto you
how many lines does a poet cast before she snags a keeper
from the dark and murky waters of her mind?
space and time, your life and mine were cut and sewn together
to send us tumbling into this forever
why we’re here, darlin’ nobody knows,
particles bonding and breaking apart
but…i saw your face in the stars where I lay
flat on my back in the sand, I understood
how many ways can a thought be turned and seen a little different
hold it in your hands and look it over
and how many days can I wake up in the bed of our long marriage
to start the work of husbandry anew
and find a better way of loving you?
cold frosty morning:
lay my body in the cold red ground,
sing me a song with a lonesome sound
you can have my banjo, play it soft and low
I'll carry your tune wherever I'm going.
dead don't mind:
I went down to the river to pray
but I couldn’t think of one good thing worth saying
and ended up down at the township cemetery
laying in the buffalo grass quiet as a red tailed hawk in the cottonwood
watching the day pass
o the dead don’t mind my quiet standoffish nature
no the dead don’t mind
I went down to the Ninnescah looking for arrowheads
the river was higher than I thought so I walked the bank instead
filling my pockets with styrofoam
got to thinking about how I’m always thinking about dying
and I guess I’ve gotten a little bit of perspective from it
but maybe it’s time to move on…
o the dead don’t mind my ceaseless impossible questioning,
no the dead don’t mind
and I’ve come to rely on the darkness,
I’m a stumbling drunk in the graveyard
‘Lord, take these impurities from my body and mind’
the Lord looks down his nose at me,
says ‘you gotta understand the nature of impurity’
and I think I know exactly what he means,
I’m just not sure quite how to spend my time
but the dead don’t mind my seemingly incurable contrariness,
no the dead don’t mind
and the dead don’t mind my cantankerous personality
no the dead don't mind
jenny & earl
i could run every road in the whole wide world
and never find another woman like you
got a jug of corn liquor and a .44
headed down to jackson's hole for to bring you home
i got a broken heart and i got a loaded gun
i come to take you back from your other man
i don't care if he kills me dead, i don't care if your ring is his
you took it off when you left before and you could take it off again
its a long and a winding trail leads me down to the city square
cross the street 'neath a bloodshot moon
through the door at the top of the stairs
i don't care if its three in the morning
i don't care if none of the lamps are burning
i come to take you home and i'll be damned if i leave alone
didn't tap on the window, didn't knock on the door
just walked on in with a head full of hornets
jenny come on honey with the man that you love
i got a second old saddle horse ready and waiting
she pulled a .22 pistol from the nightstand drawer
she said 'i told you not to show your face around here no more
and she pointed that pistol right up at my chest
and she fired two shots..
i felt my life pouring out of the holes in my ribcage
said 'jenny why'd you kill your man?'
said 'jenny why'd you kill your man?'
circle a:
grass won't grow, its too damn dry
wind comes howling from the southern side
of the osage orange, four point barb
corner post set when the boys were small
simmental and gelbvieh too,
eighty five pair is about all i can handle anymore
since my brother quit to nurse his wife
parkinson's sent her on a slow decline
four long years and a little bit more,
found him laying in the living room
the ambulance ran to medicine lodge
said he passed away on the airlift up to wichita
i'm the last of our kind
and i'll ride that circle a brand to the end of the line
sent my sister-in-law to the nursing home
figured i'd keep on rolling
i had thirty days covered under medicare
sixteen months and counting ago
now the futures are low and hay is high
still they think i'm made of money
i'm just sinew and bone
i can live on this place until i die
then the state'll take possession
i know they'll grow it all up in cedar trees
and sell it off to some hotshot kansas city lawyer
who can bring all his buddies out a week a year
hunting them big ol' whitetails
i'm the last of our kind
and i'll ride that circle a brand to the end of the line
|
|
chuck wills widow:
there’s something I like, being a night caller, being a night caller
my friends went to bed and my family too,
alone in the dark with the water and you
you’re singing your song and my old mandolin is calling again,
let’s call him together
I barely escaped those old neon lights,
the old neon lights had a hold on me
but I’m trying to be different, I’m trying to be good,
just coffee, water, wire and wood
its hour by hour, a day at a time, its hard but I’m trying…i’m trying.
let’s call him together
I sang with chuck wills widow, down by the reservoir late in the night
and we danced in the light of the harvest moon,
alone on our distant shores
alone on our distant shores
alone on our distant shores
I don’t know where chuck went, but he never came home,
I can tell you’re heartbroke
let’s call him together
I sang with chuck wills widow, down by the reservoir late in the night
and we danced in the light of the harvest moon,
alone on our distant shores
alone on our distant shores
alone on our distant shores
siren song:
time will change you.
don’t try to stay static,
cause you might succeed
while everybody else keeps moving on
time keeps rolling on
and we won’t slow it down
just try to accept it and make
use of whatever’s left
cause what we have is something worth holding on to
the sun rose on a new day this morning
and I feel twice the man that I was
mental health crises notwithstanding,
I’ve lost all doubt it’s you that I love
what was I thinking? I don’t know but would you forgive me?
I need you to forgive me…
I couldn’t tell and I still can’t
what were causes and what were effects
I couldn’t tell and I still can’t
what were causes and what were effects
but last night I dreamed I was flying,
its a dream that I’ve had before
secret movements that feel so simple
but when I wake up I can’t recall
guess the universe works in circles,
yeah I’m like that in other ways too
sometimes my head gets turned around sideways
and I forget what I otherwise knew
start asking the same old questions,
wondering where I went wrong
yeah its easy to blame what’s external
though I know it’s a siren song
I know it’s a siren song
water:
made it inside and closed the door,
sank down on the linoleum floor
called out your name, I need help.
she crawled out of bed and took off my clothes
stoked up the fire, put a kettle on the stove
gotta warm those hands and feet, but take it slow
don’t know how it happened but I flipped the boat
redwing boots and a forty pound coat,
somehow I made the shore
I’m not afraid of water, it’s drowning that scares me
I could swim this world without you
but you know I wouldn’t want to.
when the clouds rolled in and they stuck around,
I was walking in a haze, couldn’t take another minute
kissed our child on the forehead, trying to hold back tears
I walked outside and I was rigging a rope
and about that time felt a buzz from my phone
your three simple words, ‘please stick
around.’
I’m not afraid of water, it’s drowning that scares me
I could swim this world without you
I'm not afraid of water, it's drowning that scares me
could I swim this world without you?
you know I wouldn't want to.
copperhead in the rye:
copperhead laying in the rye, waiting for a little grey mouse
one of these days when the timing's right
old copper head's gonna coil and strike
so keep an eye open to the east
keep an eye open to the west
watch your step when you're walking through the field
copperhead's hungry and he's looking for a meal
god of the gaps:
following tracks in ankle deep snow
up through the pines, a bend in the trail
tracing your movements, print by print
nothing i'd rather be doing than this
tree fallen over blocking the gulch
crouch and step under, belly to snow
watching the way you move up this mountain
wondering how i'd ever come close
god of the gaps in the firelight flicker
it warms me to know that you're out there somewhere
watching me pass, way up where the earth and sky
collide...
moving so slow it feels like a mile
turn back it's only two hundred yards
tracks in a bee-line straight for a doug fir
wondering how far i am behind
god of the gaps in the firelight flicker
i'm painting your face high on the canyon wall
and you watch, way up where the earth and sky
collide...
hope!:
hold on, don't let go, keep hope alive
this world of trouble and pain will hold you down if you let it.
don't let it.
'i sing because i'm happy, i sing because i'm free
his eye is on the sparrow and i know he watches me'
we got the time and we got the tools
to draw new lines and make new rules
plant that seed of rotten fruit, grow this world anew
old black buzzard:
get me out of this house, out on the arkansas river
burn my skin, cook my brain, staring at the ripples in the water all day
I don't care what the rich man says,
he can have the money and the power
all i need's a hook and a line, i got time, i got time
get me out of this car, out on the red dirt running
crazy as a loon, howling at the moon
broke in the brain, i ain't complaining
i don't care what the rich man says,
he can have the money and the power
all i need's a good pair of boots,
cut me loose, send me walking
where the wild winds blow the highland snow
and the canyon's dark and cold and narrow
where the arc of time is long and deep and wide
and the circling sun slow and patient.
old black buzzard in the cottonwood tree
i look at him and he looks at me
doesn't much matter what anyone says
he'll be here when i'm long dead
|
