shows
Getting off a plane makes me want to keep a journal. You can forget everything without proof. Portland seems much the same, it hasn't rained lately and of course the summer is lovely. A friend was on the flight to Seattle and I had some words, missed others.
Juneau rained or was cloudy for weeks, not until the last two days did the sun commit. I crawled around trees adjusting their canopy, rolled some rocks downhill. Juneau as ever positive energy, folks excited about beautiful things. An engaging street fair, Juneau for the raising of children. Flying south it was clear forever, I saw so many glaciers. All with new bare rock demonstrating retreat. This was the first winter in a while with serious snow. All mountains still snowcapped.
I miss the tides of nature. Juneau a tiny city eavesdropping on mountains' sky conversation. We used to watch the snow's straight line come down the mountain, bounce up. It's always clear and cold the day after when the snow starts creeping down. The cold can seem a novelty.
Lynnae Griffith performed a culminating album today. As long as I've known her she's been working on these songs, I came late. I wrote a poem about Lynnae's playing one time, here it is. The numbers are from when I was writing a bunch of sonnets and didn't want to lose track which was which.
3. “Lynnae G., a Folk Singer of Portland”
Her fingers know all notes in painful chords
her voice gives back half of what was taken
eyes fixed above the crowd's clapping reward
she wonders at the power she awakens.
If you gather pebbles during rain
the water turns them all to simple gems;
so too the tearful songs of Ms. Lynnae
wash bitter life and make it whole again.
Her songs' melting sorrow like snow in spring
hold growing life within old frozen bones
and when, head held high, Lynnae Griffith sings
this barren world shakes and starts to grow.
Her sad songs entrance with mourning release;
when Lynnae sings, she turns sadness to peace.
Juneau rained or was cloudy for weeks, not until the last two days did the sun commit. I crawled around trees adjusting their canopy, rolled some rocks downhill. Juneau as ever positive energy, folks excited about beautiful things. An engaging street fair, Juneau for the raising of children. Flying south it was clear forever, I saw so many glaciers. All with new bare rock demonstrating retreat. This was the first winter in a while with serious snow. All mountains still snowcapped.
I miss the tides of nature. Juneau a tiny city eavesdropping on mountains' sky conversation. We used to watch the snow's straight line come down the mountain, bounce up. It's always clear and cold the day after when the snow starts creeping down. The cold can seem a novelty.
Lynnae Griffith performed a culminating album today. As long as I've known her she's been working on these songs, I came late. I wrote a poem about Lynnae's playing one time, here it is. The numbers are from when I was writing a bunch of sonnets and didn't want to lose track which was which.
3. “Lynnae G., a Folk Singer of Portland”
Her fingers know all notes in painful chords
her voice gives back half of what was taken
eyes fixed above the crowd's clapping reward
she wonders at the power she awakens.
If you gather pebbles during rain
the water turns them all to simple gems;
so too the tearful songs of Ms. Lynnae
wash bitter life and make it whole again.
Her songs' melting sorrow like snow in spring
hold growing life within old frozen bones
and when, head held high, Lynnae Griffith sings
this barren world shakes and starts to grow.
Her sad songs entrance with mourning release;
when Lynnae sings, she turns sadness to peace.