Ghosts and cut grass
Plus new music, new poems, and a tribute show.
It’s here again. Despite my yearly disbelief, spring has sprung. Things are green and growing. My favorite season always feels too brief. 70-degree days with the windows open, chasing trout, evening walks around my neighborhood—it’s all much-welcomed, even if a little fleeting.
During my writing group’s recent meeting, while discussing five new poems of mine that I had sent for feedback, Geoff (excellent writer) shared a note he had regarding my use of the word “ghost.” He thought I had used it a bunch in this collection, but in fact it had only been twice. The takeaway was that the poems felt like they were heavily concerned with ghosts.
It’s an astute observation, and one I can’t deny. Ghosts are main characters in my writing and music. I feel like they’ve loomed large in my life since I was born. My uncle Rex passed when he was only two—I stared at his photo on the wall at my mamaw’s house constantly. As a kid, I would often ask, “Where is Uncle Rex?” The answer was always, “heaven.” For years, I thought the crib and room from the photo was literally heaven. Like everyone who has lived long enough, I’ve lost many important people. I try to talk to them when I can. Not in a seance-kind of way, but in a way that recognizes the people who helped shaped you will always be a part of you, so it’s more of an internal dialogue with a part of your own self.
Mostly unrelated to spirits, I am extremely honored that two new poems of mine found a home with the lovely Pictura Journal. I’m even more jazzed/surprised to find that they kick off the new issue. My whole life, I’ve fought against a type of indifference that seems to permeate within the men of my family. One of these new poems, “The Friendly City,” gives it a name and a form:
The Friendly City
A lit cigarette in the road
silhouettes the million-dollar bridge.
My city is beautiful
when it wants to be.
Love brought me here
and twice it left me behind.
I try to make the most of it.
Talk nice with the neighbors,
shift my pain into something useful,
keep the yard decent.
Inside me there is a country-
darkness, the birthright of men
in my family. Over the years,
it has incubated, hatched,
grown wings.
I want to learn what it looks like
to lean into myself with all
I have, to starve in service to the work.
To heal like a professional,
inheritance be damned.
I am ready to eat
the black bird of my heart.
You can also read an interview with Pictura where I talk about how I got into art, who I try to reach with my work, and discuss some musical and literary inspirations.
Do you remember when I had an insane week that involved making an album with my friend William Matheny before heading out with my own band for a run of shows to NYC and back? Wild times. Well, the first single of that record is out now! The song is called “Mercy Journeys” and features what I consider to be my best-ever bass performance committed to tape (it also features the line, “If you see my ghost tomorrow, all dressed up with no place to go…”). You can stream it wherever you get your music. We recently went back to the studio for a video session to cut live versions of each single. Check out the live music video for “Mercy Journeys” here:
The record is called Material Witness and will be released on William’s new imprint Diamond Teeth Records via Soundly/Thirty Tigers on July 10. Vinyl and CD pre-orders are live for both.
Back to ghosts. Both William Matheny and myself have been asked to play some Jason Molina tunes at the West Virginia premiere of the new documentary about the iconic songwriter. It takes place on May 16 at the Foundry Theater in Huntington, WV. Doors open at 5, music starts at 5:30 with the screening to follow. Jason’s original high school punk band Spineriders will be performing at The Loud after the screening.
It’s hard to quantify Molina’s impact on me. I’ve found him to be a companion through the darker parts of my life. The first time I got into his music, my friend John R. Miller told me to “be careful.” It’s true that Molina made a career out of blurring the safety lines when it comes to exploring the bleak and hopeless parts of life, but he also wasn’t afraid to remind us of the world’s hidden beauty. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately as I am now the same age that he was when he passed away. If you’re new and curious about his music, I highly recommend diving into Sojourner by Magnolia Electric Co. and/or (this will be confusing) the album Magnolia Electric Co. by the band Songs: Ohia.
I organized a Jason Molina tribute show back in 2019 at The Golden Pony before I left Harrisonburg, VA. It is a highlight of my three years living there.
Public readings are way down this year for me, but that’s okay. I’ve been working hard on two new manuscripts and feeling pretty good about them. I did want to share that on Tuesday, April 28th you can find me sharing a bunch of poems at 6 p.m. as part of the “Artists from the Heart of Appalachia” event happening at the Mon Arts Center in Morgantown, WV. It’s all part of Bridging Innovations week, so you’ve got to register ahead of time, but don’t worry, this part of the conference is 100% free to attend. Thanks to the WV Creative Network for the invite!
Hell Yeah! 💪💪