Friday, February 6, 2009

Spencer Krug Is In My Dreams

Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was at this party at someone's house with some people I didn't know. Spencer Krug was there, and he was going to play a bunch of songs for us. There weren't very many people at the party, and it was a small room, so I got to meet him, and he was very nice. He was also doing a lot of cocaine, which surprised me greatly because somehow I didn't expect Spencer Krug to be a big cocaine fan. Then he announced that he would play the song Samson for us. I didn't remember that it was a Regina Spector song until I woke up. Anyway, I decided to record his performance of Samson because I didn't think any of my friends would believe me when I told them that I was at a party with Spencer Krug where he gave a private show. I was using one of those huge camcorders we had at home when I was growing up. The old kind that rest on your shoulder while you look through the lens. Spencer Krug was kind of making fun of me (in a nice way) for the gigantic camcorder, and I explained to him that I couldn't use the smaller ones because I don't have steady hands. So he was about to sit down at the piano, and he was sort of hitting on me a little, which I found very flattering, but I was prepared to tell him that I had a boyfriend should he try to ask me out. Then he sat down and began to play and sing and it was so lovely.

Friday, January 9, 2009

To Make Closer the Sound of One-Plus-One

For Jeremy

I wanted you to be there too.
In the dark winter streets with the candles in the windows and the ice on the lamps and the still still still of the empty stones.

We were shooting jars of beans and crouching low against the wind and my child-fingers left cold marks on your arm.

We filled our cups of tea too full and laughed in side-long ways with drowning eyes, and I hoped it was not enough for you.

I have these muffled daguerreotypes of old dolls and little girls in long black dresses. There is a mourning pouch and a gold watch and a grandfather clock that no longer works. I told you about the ring. I don’t know how it escaped with the war-torn children.

I want to tell you of these things I know for sure,

and this bursting spot of pride,

and the ring-lines made for washing.

Thursday, December 18, 2008