Blue Note Poems:

Little wild supports for wandering thoughts

My poems have always been scribbled moods — often squeezed into the margins of my Moleskine, or onto the last blank page of whatever book I happen to be reading. Basically, they end up on any scrap of paper nearby when the impulse strikes. They are side notes and blue notes to something I’m working on musically. Some — in a rather awkward way — become the starting point for a song, though the song often ends up in a completely different place and mood.They stand alone and independent but are still part of my process.

Some of these poems are simple nonsense rhymes or strings of words that just sound good together. I collect them not because they form a coherent whole, but because they feel like a bouquet of wildflowers gathered on one of my long walks — mismatched yet unexpected and beautiful in their own way.

I love them because they don’t want to go anywhere. They don’t need to be good or pretty or even make sense. They don’t compete with anyone or try to steal the spotlight. They simply exist, asking nothing in return. I enjoy their company, and I often laugh at the strange paths my mind takes when I stumble across one again — tiny notes to myself, little wild supports for wandering thoughts.

My Eyes Are Black Like Summer Cherries

My eyes are black

like summer cherries.

I saw a grey cat

cross the sidewalk —

left to right.

Peacock feathers,

thirteen points

counting my dice.

I heard the cry of an owl

right before midnight.

Stay wild, moon child —

stay wild.