The victorious army marches into the city,
& not far behind tarries a throng of women
Who slept with the enemy on the edge
Of battlemnets. The stunned morning
Opens into a dust cloud of hooves
& drums. Some new priests cradle
Stone tablets, & others are poised
With raised mallets in a forest of defeated
Statuary. Of course, behind them
Linger the turncoats & pious
Merchants of lime. What’s Greek
Is forged into Roman; what’s Roman
Is hammered into a ceremony of birds
Headed east. Whatever is marble
Burns in the lime kilns because
Someone dreams of a domed bathhouse.
Lime by Yusef Komunyakaa
Philip Glass: Concerto For Violin And Orchestra
O Venus, beauty of the skies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gaily false in gentle smiles,
Full of love-perplexing wiles;
O goddess, from my heart remove
The wasting cares and pains of love.
If ever thou hast kindly heard
A song in soft distress preferred,
Propitious to my tuneful vow,
A gentle goddess, hear me now.
Descend, thou bright immortal guest,
In all thy radiant charms confessed.
Celestial visitant, once more
Thy needful presence I implore.
In pity come, and ease my grief,
Bring my distempered soul relief,
Favour thy suppliant’s hidden fires,
And give me all my heart desires.
Stellamara ~ Zephyrus
My weary bones say yes, but tomorrow is another day.
And we are still here.
I should’ve posted this one with Damian’s palm tree picture. They go together!
Run The Jewels ~ Baby Driver Official Video
Astute observers of Pixels will have noted a lack of activity on my part this week and, perhaps, the week before. This is due to the fact that I was finishing mixing and mastering my next album, an opus ten years in the making, One Man’s Opinion Of Moonlight.
The album will be released on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify and all the other streaming services on February 14, 2020. It is a collection of ballads very precious to me from the sixties and seventies, plus one song of my own, performed in the manner of utmost intimacy, just me and a nylon string guitar. It took ten years to get it right and it was worth it.
I am sharing the cover here for the first time anywhere.
The original photo was shot by me. I believe I should do a master class in mirror self-portraits. I apped it a little bit Snapseed, cropped it, and turned it into a sepia print using some other app. I sent it to Barbara duBois who did a wonderful job adding the moons and bringing some color back into the image. It just blew me away when I saw it. I didn’t want to add type to the cover, but you have to these days.
I have been projecting this video behind me for live performances of “Coming Back To Me,” so I thought I would use it a temporary video for the song until I can make an “official” video. With the exception of the lovely mystery girl in black and white, all the photos and videos were taken by me on a weekend getaway up the coast at Pt. Arena, where I stayed in an amazing little cabin in the middle of the woods. There is nothing like the sound of light rain in the quiet forest.
|Did tear along. |
Did carry the sour heave
of memory. Did fold my body
upon the pillow’s curve,
did teach myself to pray.
Did pray. Did sleep. Did choir
an echo to swell through time.
Did pocket watch, did compass.
Did whisper a girl from the silence
of ghost. Did travel on the folded map
to the roaring inside. Did see myself
smaller, at least, stranger,
where the hinge of losing had not yet
become loss. Did vein, did hollow
in light, did hold my own chapped hand.
Did hair, did makeup, did press
the pigment on my broken lip.
Did stutter. Did slur. Did shush
my open mouth, the empty glove.
Did grace, did dare, did learn the way
forgiveness is the heaviest thing to bare.
Did grieve. Did grief. Did check the weather,
choose the sweater, did patch the jeans
worn out along the seam. Did purchase,
did pressure, did put the safety on the scissors.
Did shuttle myself away, did haunt, did swallow
a tongue of sweat formed on the belly
of a day-old glass. Did ice, did block,
did measure the doing. Did carry.
Did return. Did slumber, did speak.
Did wash blood from the bitten nail,
the thumb that bruised. Did wash
the dirt-stained face, the dirt-stained
sheets. Did take the pills. Did not
take the pills. Cut the knots
from my own matted hair.
Jefferson Airplane ~ rejoyce (written and performed by Grace Slick)
Chemical change like a laser beam
you’ve shattered the warning amber light
Make me warm
let me see you moving everything over
smiling in my room
you know you’ll be inside of my mind soon.
There are so many of you.
White shirt and tie, white shirt and tie,
white shirt and tie, wedding ring, wedding ring.
Mulligan stew for Bloom,
the only Jew in the room
Saxon’s sick on the holy dregs
and their constant getting throw up on his leg.
Molly’s gone to blazes,
Boylan’s crotch amazes
any woman whose husband sleeps with his head
all buried down at the foot of his bed.
I’ve got his arm
I’ve got his arm
I’ve had it for weeks
I’ve got his arm
Steven won’t give his arm
to no gold star mother’s farm;
War’s good business so give your son
and I’d rather have my country die for me.
There are so many of you
Sell your mother for a Hershey bar
grow up looking like a car
All you want to do is live,
all you want to do is give but
some how it all falls apart!
(if you listen on YouTube, it’s a playlist and will continue with beautiful guitar music.)
Pavane Pour Une Infante Defunte by Ravel ~ Julian Bream & John Williams