I'll be backing up Thomas Starks on bass at a cancer benefit on November 19th.  Everyone is welcome and it's for a good cause.  Here's the detailed information:

http://www.tripledoor.com/event.aspx?eid=2833&venue=mainstage

Hope to see everyone there.

Weight

 

“Wait, my darling,” is all I have to give

Her, ecstatic mane a-skitter in an unsensed breeze—

The jaw-twist her mother’s, head-cock mine, eyes

Electric self-inventions needing license and control.

I know then that however long I live

This moment and the seemed antique solemnity of trees

With which she stilly waited, calling butterflies

To her out-held hands, will always mingle.  A whole

World apart, these seconds, joined in such a tiny form:

A matchboxed colossus, the childcraft dreams of life arrested in a doll,

Like a million years compacted to a sigh.

But what measure: butterflies are ounces, she in pounds,

Her will immensities of tons.  Enough to stall the onset of the storm?

Will I sob?  Or smile?  Or both?  Or ache?  Or all.

Wait, my love, is what I want to cry.

Ahead is heartwreck, all the losts and founds

Of knifebright joy, the guilty that the innocents betray,

Of casual sorrow, of the fallen and the crude,

Complexities of heart and intransigence of mind,

Unbidden saviors, marketers of hate.

She’s away in a flounce that will shortly flounce away,

As soon replaced by some as easy mood.

I linger with the ghost she left behind

That whispers: Daddy, even light has weight.

Strange phenomenon, this.  The therapeutic benefits of journalling have been known for a very long time to psychiatrists, and yet now we have a new form of presenting information to a controllable group of people and having them give feedback.

Fascinating...

Anyway, so here I am.  But it might take me a while to find my sea legs...

bcl