“Get out your sun lamps”
Strawberry wallpaper, a fedora cast
larger than faith. With film as your witness,
shadow was discovered in the 40s.
Young, I learned darkness
is light’s absence. Not a pooling thing from
deep corners, rather, the Earth’s turned cheek.
When restless, I’d obstruct the window,
hand wave at nothing in particular,
puppet the dark.
The other day, someone said, “Time to get out your sun lamps.” Beyond being painfully PNW, this indicates the changing season and the season of lowlight, spirits, etc. - swimming in shadows. I’ve always been struck by them (just a few previous poems that mention them here, here, here) and have started a little writing project that tries to reframe them. Hopefully, I’ll have more from that in a few weeks. This poem is not a part of that project, per se, but it is a result of reading some histories of shadows and watching more noir films than usual…
When I first started writing songs I thought that more was more. More words, more chords. Without making a blanket statement, it seems that this is a pattern primarily with youth and that as artists age they (often) get more spacious. I’ve been trying that a bit myself. The challenge then becomes being spare yet specific. Here’s a bonus poem from a beautiful fall hike this weekend.
Gold Rush in 2024
bough after
golden bough
shoulder brushing rainIn alive moments
metaphor doesn’tso the sun
With Gratitude,