Archive for March, 2012

the pines

Posted: 03/29/2012 in house of blues

black girl, black girl,

don’t ya lie to me,

tell me where did you sleep last night?

in the pines, in the pines,

where the sun never shines,

and i shiver the whole night through.

(above song “black girl” traditional)

ain’t no fairy raindrop god

gonna set up a tent ’round here.

ain’t no tambourine angel

gonna spread her wings and fly you home.

come down by the graveyard,

wear my jacket, kiss me by the tilting stone;

any blessing we get, we steal ourselves

from the dresser drawer cradle to the six foot bone.


for Ella’s challenge at Toads. words: pines, tambourines, raindrops, wings


Posted: 03/25/2012 in house of crazy

come across the field,

i ain gon bite cha.

come across the field where great grampy took an arrow through the kidney.

come look in the rain barrel where the possum drowned.

come across the field in them stiff new shoes,

leave you car with the door open, idlin in the road.

come across the field where mama doubled over.

that was me, and i still ain’t shy.

come across the field where the bad thing happened.

come do what you want, but i won’t cry.

come across the field,

watch your stride across the snake.

i know rope rots, and the name of your new bride;

you know how i can get, and the trouble i can make.


for Real Toads.  Photograph by Kat Mortensen


Posted: 03/21/2012 in house of fools, house of love

had a friend named jimmy

for a long time,

he look after me when I got drunk

and shooda known better but never did.

jimmy was a sweet guy

but had no girlfriend;

he go down and buy a chippie for an hour or so

and he’d pay her to wear these certain boots

and do certain stuff he liked.


somethin inside him needed that, and he never hurt nobody.

not jimmy,

like i say, he was a sweet guy.

today i saw some chick

walkin across the drug store parking lot,

and she looked like you, baby;

so much like you, that my heart twisted over.

then i understood, yanno.

I wooda paid that chick to let me pick up her hand,

walk with her wherever she was goin,

and for her to let me call her by your name.

there’s some folks as wouldn’t understand a thing like that,

but now i do, jimmy.

now i do.

woman was talkin

and let me tell you, she had more words

than col. sanders has birds.

she say

well let me tell you


if you ask me

and she touch my arm so often she wore a groove.

mama bring me up to listen nice, and i tried,

but soon my mind start to wander…

I craved to hear your voice in my ear

sayin hey sweetie, how’s my girl?

I hankered to hear one of your goofy tangents,

like, this place has *got* to have Twizzlers


look! a rabbit!

and pretty soon i was a million miles away and smilin.

woman say,

honey, where did you go?

i guess i went down the rabbit hole,

but she don’t need to know.

people talk

and people say

that love,

oh love,

is sure enough a beautiful thing.

people talk

but don’t think,

and when it comes to love

oh love,

they don’t know a goddam thing.

love will give

but it don’t give for free…

and what it does

it does

without mercy–

love will change you

and you won’t even see

that what it does, it does merciless–




for Marian’s music prompt (Joan Armatrading)

it’s hard to get home when you’re high.

hard when you left your friends

without sayin goodbye

cos somethin came across your mind.

it’s hard to get home when you’re high.

hard when you can’t trust your eyes

with your arms wrapped around you

cos the wind starts to rise.

it’s hard to get home when you’re high.

hard with such clumsy feet and hands

hard when ya can’t hardly stand

hard for a girl out alone in the night…

it’s hard to get home when you’re high.


for dverse poetics. picture by Walter Smith.