Monthly Archives: September 2013

Be on My Side

There is no reason for you to hide.
I shot my baby over the rainbow.
They dragged the river bottom,
but she was not there. I shot her
dead. I dragged her to the quarry;
I threw her in. I buried her under
gravel and clay. I worked all night.
I walked away from my baby; I
walked along the river, where the
weeds grow tall—tall enough to
cover everything. Tall enough for
us to hide. There’s still time for us
to get away. Are you on my side?
Are you on my side, or do you
need to take a rainbow ride?
I could drag you anywhere.

 

 

Today’s creepy request, Neil Young & Crazy Horse’s “Down by the River,” was from my friend and possible distant cousin-in-law, Tom Cavicchia. Nothing like a good murder ballad on a Saturday night … If you have a request, please let me know in the comments. Thanks!

 

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I’ve Been Kissed

Baby,
did you know
my eyes are large
as roses?

I compare you
to snow, a snowfall
on the gray
sea.

Tower
over me now.
Let my rose eyes
bloom.

 

 

After “Kiss from a Rose,” by Seal, as requested by my friend Jackie. Do you have a request? Let me know in the comments.

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Make Another Man Sing

Uncle Charlie is the one man who weeps
like a dove lapping at cream. Feel it:
the power of love in his wings,

the steel wings of his DMC-12.
“Tougher than diamonds,” he says.
“Tougher than diamonds, and hard as

a dream.” It’s like a train, the guitar solo—
to a time before credit cards, when he
was poor, but everything sufficed.

 

 

 

 

 

After “The Power of Love,” by Huey Lewis & The News, as requested by John Allen Richter.

My base was this one — because if you’re going to watch this video, you might as well watch it with the full intro. And then I watched this one because I’ve decided to allow myself to consult the lyrics of the songs I’m writing about. And then I finished with this one, which is just the song, minus lyrics and lengthy preamble.

Requests? Let me know in the comments. Thanks!

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Differences in the Wind

Take a walk with me;
I will show you Chewbacca things,
how trees have rings.

Inside.
The inside of things.

Thump my chest.
It won’t hurt me.
I am a particular kind

 of melon.

These are leaves.
Kick them and they scatter

like railroad tracks when the train

is coming, rolls over, clicks off
clattering to somewhere.

This is the sun in the wind.
Sometimes you can’t tell
the difference, which one
is touching your face.

I wonder if you’ll remember me
more than you’ll remember the wine?

Its sharp taste, that sourness of sun
and time. That thunder of wind

and time.

I tap and release you;
you fly away.

Oh, the differences
in different times.

 

 

After “Dark Star” by the Grateful Dead, as requested by my friend Dan. I strongly preferred this performance, which is longer but prettier. In the last couple of stanzas, you might see influences from this one. Listening to the two very different versions probably gave me the “differences” theme.

All this month, I’m writing poems based on songs. Have a request? Great! Please mention it in the comments.

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Lies in Your Eyeliner

Damn it, I’m the guy in shades,
and I will not have this masquerade,
these costumes and red lipstick,
these ladders of night.

This mattress brings no rest,
only steam from the radiator
that lives in my mind, fills
every moment with its heat.

Oh, no. You stamp my visa
again and again: DENIED.
Oh, no, you keep me here,
in a hallway of violins.

You deceive me; I wonder if
there are lies in your eyeliner,
lines of your story that you keep
inside your hat. I keep my lines

to myself, behind these bars.
I can’t hurt you; don’t be afraid.
Give me back my switchblade—
I want to show you my visions.

 

 

Inspired by Corey Hart’s “I Wear My Sunglasses at Night,” requested by my friend Malissa. Do you have a request? Let me know in the comments!

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All Right for a Girl (after “Brand New Key,” by Melanie)

I roll around the world,
the lonely round world,
and I sing in a different key.
I jolt awake and see that  
I’ve been skating all night,
trying to reach your door.
My bicycle rides without me
sometimes. You’ll find it
under your window
one morning, when I am
least myself, and most,
when I am not driving,
but walking, not singing,
only talking—
talking to myself
about you, or how
everyone says
I’m doing all right,
for a girl.

 

 

If it’s Tuesday p.m., check out Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. Also, I’ve started a month-long series in which I’ll write a poem based on a different  song each day. (Here’s the one that inspired today’s poem.) If you have a request (any style, any song, any artist), please let me know in the comments. Thanks!

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Town Shoes (after Jimi Hendrix’s 12 String Blues)

Gonna buy this town
a new pair of town shoes;

then it can walk around
while I take the train.

Gonna take this town apart;
gonna put it in my pocket.

My pocket has a hole in it;
it matches my heart.

Oh, little girl, I’m scared.
I’m scared to do it again,

I’m scared to be on film,
I’m scared to be big—

but now I can’t, no,
I can’t stay small.

 

 

This poem kicks off a month in which I’ll write at least one poem a day, and each based on a specific song. I’m not going to post all of them, but I thought I should start things off by sharing this first one. It’s based on a recommendation from John Allen Richter that I listen to Jimi Hendrix for inspiration. I enjoyed this low-key Hendrix song and was struck by how humble he is here, considering that he was a musical genius.

It took me a while to figure out if I was basing the poem on the performance, the artist, the lyrics, or what, and to get over being spooked by the idea that I had to somehow do the song or the artist justice. I think that was first-time jitters, and also, ekphrasis is not my strong suit.

Anyway … John has also suggested this one, which I think will be fun. I am taking requests, if you haven’t already heard. If there’s a song you think I should base a poem on in some way this month, please let me know in the comments. Thanks!

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