Bird in the chimney
chirping all night
you must be a baby-
are you hungry?
Should I turn down
the music?
I tasted the best orange of my life today; cara cara oranges. Grown here in California, the color of grapefruit. Intense flavor. I could live on only cara cara I think. Like an island…
He is standing in my path
when I round the corner
10 years in his sweet brown eyes
shifting from one foot then the other.
His medusa long hair, tendrils
matted and wriggling at the waist
might snag me if I fail to stop
so I stop.
Hi-my-name-is-Myles-and-
I’m-raising-money-for-my-school-and
I write poetry… would you like to see one?
Confident, he places the page
in my open hand, 8 stanzas long,
and Xeroxed. Did you write this?
Yes & my brother types them
for me. His words about hope and
a pain he knows…and games, and how
words help him “see through” … he is
looking past me now, maybe counting
minutes until he can join his brother.
Did you know it’s national poetry month?
I ask fishing in my pockets, no he says.
Sell your poetry, $1.00/poem.
He looks up intent. And the next person you meet
tell them that you are a Poet
with a capital “P” and that your words
will change the world.
Dusk arrives in the marrow the way
sun rises in the blood heart
beats a story in grooves on a disc
blowing drapes photos of Lola
faded lace Majorca pearls.
Paint peels its history in songs a sin, or many
(tell the story) she sways to forget-
some vintage regret this our unspoken
(tell the story) un(buried) lineage.
“So Addiction walks into a bar meets
Lonely…” scattered sorrows
cracked watch glass spills sand back
to its black sand beach pearl folds into its un(broken) shell-
Do you believe in destiny?
One staggering memory.
It’s a sunny day here in O-town and I’m insanely crazy excited because it’s ICS day!! Immersion Composition Society or ICS is when songwriters sequester themselves away to write songs all day. On our own, we write as many songs as we possibly can, record them roughly at home, then get together that night for a listening party. And we only listen. ICS started in Oakland, and has now gone global. ICS is the single greatest thing that has helped my songwriting over the years because it is all about:
I’m redundant with the Playtime part because besides leaving the critic in the dust, creating has to have space to be playful, silly, & outrageous too. It has to fly & float and take us wherever. And honestly- I may write 10 songs in one good ICS day: 8 of them are crap. But the more you do this- set time aside for your art- the more quality comes out of those sessions. Probably half of my music now is written in these kind of ICS days. I do ICS solo too -but getting together with other artists around town is pure awesomeness.
I’ve been thinking about my own struggle lately with the poetry challenge (30 poems in 30 days); why some nights does it feel like work to finish a poem whose inspiration came so sweetly? I get to the 11th hour and I’m stressing about…edits…the sound…is it good enough. But this isn’t what the prompt is about: the month of April, for poets everywhere, is supposed to be when we set aside time & space to play with our poetry Muses; to invite them close, daily; to listen and respond to them; to actually write. We are meant to be Oracles; to spout & spew, to play with our art & to just put it out there! And isn’t it true- that for all of us, that in our best work- you can actually feel that playfulness?
So suddenly, I get this now- going into my ICS songwriting day: its about playtime. Where is all this crazy joy coming from? I think I’m excited b/c songwriting is pure bliss in general- but really, I haven’t set time aside to just creatively play since writing songs for my last album. How can we keep our art fun? By setting aside time to play with our craft- to spill paint, to make junk, mistakes, outtakes; to work so fast that who knows what will happen.
You can edit later.
Here is an example of a song born out of my second ICS years ago. I meant to go back & change the words; I was restless for something to happen. I could feel my Muses hovering that day, but couldn’t figure out what to do with the energy. It came out fast! A punk song. Later with the band, I slowed it way down, imagined myself in a NYC lounge, modulated a bit, and gave it to a jazz band. It’s on my new album. 
Who knows what instruments or genres I’ll be with today. But I stocked up on food last night; instructed all to ignore me. I just need to find my mics for recording. And if that fails- I will record old skool to an old boom box! or my phone! Haha! (don’t let the demons of technology distract you…)
I give myself permission to be silly, off beat, ridiculous, b/c the clock is ticking. And now, I can feel the Muses come closer…
I wonder, what is the first thing my Muse would say to me? This will be my first prompt for the day. Oh wait…I can hear it already….
“And where have YOU been?!” This will be my first song title of the day.
“It is impossible to live
without poetry and color and love.”
Antoine St. Exupery
I miss the South for its dramatic storms. When the sky opens up with a deluge of pelting drops or giant hail, and it’s “hellfire & brimstone” in the skies. And then it’s over. We’re having a storm now, with a long slow rain. And true to west coast ways, the lightning & thunder are slow rolling and taking their sweet time. Two hours later and still a gentle storm. More lyrics…
You wake me up at 4 o’clock
saying, why stay asleep when we could talk
seems your head is full of dreams, it seems.
Open your eyes & the sky turns gray
begin to speak down my window pain
first a mist and then a steady pour.
Rain rain, are you here to stay?
Seems you got a lot to say
so I’ll listen to you, all night/
all day…
“The creative life has a thousand lives, and it comes back from every death.”
Clarissa Pinkola Estes, The Creative Fire.
You can pull her roof
from Saguaro ribs, test her will
in the crumbling clay-
but as long as stars reflect her eyes
she’ll dance, she’ll sing and sway
Again, she’ll find her way.
You can tie her hands, still her steps
bind shadows all around her-
but La Chispa will spark a raging fire
El Duende will untie her,
El Duende will unbind her.
© 2012 Tara Linda
He’s driven this far
to see the same sky
reflecting carmine cumulus.
Each mile marker
moves him in valleys
erasing epochs,
keeps posting the same sign
Now leaving:
Space and
Time
c. 2012 TaraLinda
M. Ward (or “Mathew Freakin’ Ward” as a jealous reviewer called him) has just today released his newest album, “A Wasteland Companion,”– and it IS an awesome album. But I confess, this artist can never go wrong musically. I hope he evolves in a thousand directions, & I will follow his music with every one. Ward is one of the few musicians that seems to channel music like air. Beyond having a natural voice and enviable songwriting skills, his lyrics reflect a sensitivity to all around him, compassion; humanity. Even when he writes about death, you feel ethereal release and love (hear Requiem, & watch the video). How does he do all this?! I listen hard for answers; yet, it’s like trying to distinguish light from air. I confess, I like his solo work most, and the Americana sounds more than the pop.
With this artist, it makes sense to speak of Muses with a capital “M”. He channels Muses, or probably Muses channel M. Ward. His music will always inspire me. I enjoy most his earliest recordings because they sound raw, recorded in attics with lo-fi production. You feel like you’re there- in the room with he & his band. And this “aliveness” is what I strive for in my music. Don’t we all.
In his new release, there are the usual M. Ward qualities; vintage inspired, unpretentious, joy filled, soul-soothing songs- with just a bit more wonder and innocent magic.
His new video animates these same childlike qualities.
Nothing kills Muses like taxes.
But there were so many great things about this week. Like making it 8 days into the poetry challenge, unscathed;). The Europe tour is coming together nicely; we’re working on videos. My garden is growing; and the hunter moon is lighting the skies.
This time last year when I was challenged to finish a song, and a poem for the same 30 poems/30 days challenge, Muses gave me this:
“Jealous Muse 
Time for a million
& none for me- gives zero
to the bossa waiting patiently.
We could sip wine & light a fuse
taxes & death are no excuse.”
I can’t stop playing this song. Infectious joy. It’s like Humboldt all over again….
No one can see how they conspire
below the still wet dirt, spiraling up
connecting spaces to the indigo sky.
A migration, rain traveling fissures
serpentine veins, breath and channel
shadows of the hunter’s moon.
To celebrate Spring, I’m hosting a giveaway for Jamz Guitar straps! For you and the guitar player you know~ pass this on. I use Jamz guitar straps because they’re Fun, designed with VERY cool fabrics, non-leather, and made by a small, family run US business. I especially love them for my ukuleles. Oh, and my guitars too. It’s like dressing up my instruments
Jamz has over 100 designs now (from tribal & southwest, to flames & skulls, to Emo, leopard spots, flowers, & action heros…). Truly something for everyone.
$35.00 Value. Open to US and International folks.
To win ONE Jamz Guitar strap- just leave a comment here on this blog post. Which one will you pick?!
To double your odds, go to my Facebook page & click “like”. I post music, pics & vids there. Come back here & post to let me know.
To triple your chances of winning- go to Jamz Originals Facebook page & click “like”. Come back here & post. Jamz has pics of the newest straps on Fb.
I will randomly draw a winner May 1st from all the entrees. So that I can contact you when you win- be sure to leave your email, or be reachable by Facebook; it’s amazing how many avatars don’t have contact info…
Yay!! It’s Spring!
