Soaked-through canvas Dundas to Manning like I was never allowed to wear
When I was younger past the knocked-down apartment, or maybe it’s a school. Low tops finally feeling
Or beginning feeling up toCollege like
Bad ideas, like I’m at Crawford trying
To write myself back into Ossington all the songs
I used to know.
Some interesting projects in the works this fall. I’m going to try to figure out a way to sync this piece with some sort of geography or map or something. If I can figure it out, it’ll be pretty cool, I think. Check back. Maybe in a few weeks this’ll be more than something I thought up on the walk home.
Nobody listens to Blind Melon anymore. Why? They watched the same shows as children that I did!
That was Blind Melon covering ‘Three Is A Magic Number’ off of Schoolhouse Rocks in such a way as to make you begin to wonder if the song is, in fact, not about numbers at all. Cosmic.
Going through some old things recently, I found a whole stack of CD’s I’ve kept underneath a pile of old notebooks from school. They were wrapped up in an elastic band, scratched to heck and tossed in a box of random stuff I’d been keeping in storage. Normally, I’m really careful with my albums, so this was an alarming and curious development, to say the least.
I thought that title up last week, and liked it more than anything I wrote towards the idea of having it headline. So it’s on this one, a point-form list of thoughts and things in the works…when I’ve got enough time to have things in the works:
last night that ladders
across the lawn like
grazing giraffes, with
eating acacia leaves
and color chips while we
their long limbs and
dug at the foot of the house,
unearthing pipes and roots
we tried to bury long ago,
bones the color of candlewax
and rust lying next to where we’ve
tried to live