Drought / Burn Ban / Brazos County

Reveal to me
oh, Lord,
Heaven, and,
Hell ...

101 degrees Fahrenheit
June, 2005.



Copyright © 2010-11 Patrick Darnell

Studio

When you finally build out your sound studio, do it just like this... four metal posts spring bed, chenille bedspread, wood burning metal pot belly stove, and stovepipe, ... Singer foot pedal sewing machine, wood plank floor, cord rugs, shelf with tins on it.. glass hurricane lamp on a small plank table, a hook to hang your hat and coat, screen door for air but keepin' bugs out ... wood library chair, storm panes on a double slider window ... a mirror with a ghost image in it, a chalice and a beaker for libation... a ceiling covered in tin, and lap and gap wall boards. Okay?



Copyright © 2010-11 Patrick Darnell

New Song by Jack Pribek :: "The King"

the king is
feeling very bad today
the king is
feeling very bad today
he’s indisposed
Got something up his nose
take shelter best
stay out of the way because
the king is
feeling very bad today

The King smells
danger on the vine
The King wants
Everything spit and shine
Lock away pride
Keep it inside
beg mercy on your knees
and pray because
The king is
Feeling very bad today.

by Pribek, [HERE], watch the Video [LINK]

[... plus one unsolicited verse by PD ...]

the King hurts
Down in his blister'ed feet
the King spats
All over the cobbled street
rain pisses down
soaking the town
quit dancing and singing
toll bell is ringing
the King is
feeling very bad today.

I Remember Sail Cloth

Tuft of thundercloud trailing anvil head,
For a moment dove eating crumb of bread
From bronze rail before flight
With point on horizon to sight
Full wind, full rudder churns freshwater white.

Out to quiet sailing had set we
With jib and full sail cast
As have sturdy fellows past.

I could hear almost the Old Salt
From his boat in briny harbor forgot
Talking as frapped his rope
'... Bloody Lake Mich, choppy old moat,
'... Choppy when the wind blows,
'... Meaner'n a blistered nanny goat.'

Leaning with gaunt arm bare
Upon bronze gunwale, pushing aside thick hair,
Squinting ignobly in bright sun-glare
With meaty fingers tugs at pipe there
Aboard chapped lips points to east horizon
Of inland mare, fashions scowl for his next quip
As great barrier of clouds form at fast clip

'... Tha' water my life did I impart,
'... Not much left for Almighty God to sort.'

Flipping pocket flap open like a hatch
Wriggling fingers while digging for a match
To strike against all that scratch
Of a standard jaw, put he then pipe to pucker,
Match to pipe bowl, sucked he flame to tobacco;

Returning to his task murmuring just audible
Pipe clenched tightly in teeth and jaw
Spatted he to indicate his final card
Whispering as puckers he a humid draw:

'... Wha'cha gonna do ... Wha's one to do ...
'... Wha' character does she reflect when tide low
'... How can tide pool stand for long
'... in ancient thirsty sand?'

Calm smile now on his face in half shadow ...

'... To where my life depart; to live a mariner
'... For what did I impart these hands?'

I remember sail cloth masted, trimmed taut
To gather wind for friends at steady knot
A chance to depart on lake large as a sea
And to cross horizon in time eternity
With promise for life, love and for loss.




Copyright © 2010-11 Patrick Darnell

Dream Futures

Window to view a soul
Mullions stacked six over six
And mullets for panes
Frigate birds circle to poll
Zoftig female ling to eat
By warm gulf craft yaws
Chance to embark for talk...

Today journey ended yesterday
In circumspect... clouds glowed
As embers in ashes
Against sky with no flaws
In constant com
With the one I love
Sky beautiful in back drop.

Unable to photograph hugeness
Resigned, I take photos
To my mind, to my mind ...
Scene remains ever there
Vision for some dream future.




© 2010-11 Patrick Darnell

In Che Direzione le tue Lacrime

In che' direzione le tue lacrime?
Dove vanno sempre, in preoccupazione o per bene?
Singhiozzi di incoraggiamento ...
Il messaggero di dolore
Visitando gli amanti separati
Che il loro affetto andra' via domani.

Questa casa e' vuota!
Non c'e' nessuna vita, potra' essere perche'
Non c'e' nessuna promessa e il dolore e' profondo!

Quando ti sei svegliata in terrore e hai parlato
... " No, per favore, No " ...
E' questa la paura di sbagliare
Nell' amore cosi' profondo
Nell' oscurita'
Senza fondo.

Abituati nelle tue lacrime
E le mie. Col sapore di sale.
Le preoccupazione del presente
Di essere da soli e senza dell' altro.

In che' direzione le tue lacrime?
Dove vanno sempre, in preoccupazione,
O per ill bene che' ha creato.

[For Marinell | 1991]
Copyright © 2010-11 Patrick Darnell