Sanged

read red

i was just reading east of eden. i was just relaxing on a dusty futon in a wintry light. thinking as i read. then the words becames farther from words. became a backdrop of lines behind thoughts. american idle and beauty pagents further mediocrity. the fact nestled somewhere in my wrinkled brain. think about it. do you find miss america beautiful? would you buy an idol's album? i frequently find myself being very opinionated about music. yelling at the radio as if songwriters were politians going on about policy and they're clearly clueless. they stick their fingers in our eyes and say they have found the pulse of america. we laugh at these people and revere these people. oh they're stars. i could never be a star. but we could not be mediocre as well. we don't have it in our capacity. we own ourselves. and broadcast in livingrooms and kitchens. and sprawl and change and touch each other and inspire a furthering.

Live

PLEASE CHECK OTHER SHOWS BELOW I'm throwing together a last-minute house concert in Lexington on October 2nd. Apologies for the late notice, but if you're free and in need of some folk ditties to keep you toasty as the fall chill sets in, please come out and bring a friend. I'll be sharing the night with one of my favorites. a fine NC songwriter by the name of Scott Pryor (www.scottpryormusic.com). It'll be a lyrical casual evening of good tunes. Hope to see you there! Who: Scott Pryor and Elam Blackman: guitar-slingin', sharp-shootin' folksters When: Monday, October 2nd, 7:30pm Where: The home of Bob and Mary Etta King, 2 Pinewood St., Lexington, MA www.mapquest.com for directions Cost: $5-10 Suggested Donation Food & Bev: Light refreshments will be provided RSVP: Please do so, to me at mail@scottpryormusic.com ALSO if you can't make it out to this one Monday, OCT 9th, 9PM at the Abbey Lounge ( 3 Beacon St Somerville MA 02143) Elam Blackman with Naomi Sommers myspace.com/naomisommers Brendan Hogan myspace.com/brendanhogan Saturday, November 23rd, 9PM at the Gazebo Lounge at Four Points Sheraton Leominster, MA (right off of route 12) FREE

ambition

i remember how you found me out. at the house on the lake. my secret. i wasn't too ambitious. my secret was flat and mute. then i found you out. pushed the furniture about the room. kissed until strings pulled our skin free of gravity. free of weight. free. washed in waisted time. in boats slapping water. oars knocking to a hollow sound.

tonight a skunk showed me mercy. i heard it aproach. its claws clicking the pavement. i turned and shrieked at it. and it stopped in its tracks tail raised.  white fur abound. we stared at each other. it turned around and slipped under a parked car.
oh what a night of turning. of spinning. of learning that beauty is never predictable. that laughter is forgiving of structure. that beauty is not what it seems. cold concrete steps familiar in slope and shadow. hard bed familiar intangle.

911

on this day five years ago. i pulled a warm thin body close. and made love. tender. no armageddon desperation.
the day unfolded strangely. like each movement was a still shot
i pulled friends close. we gathered around a dinner

sometimes i forget how utterly beautiful humanity is
i forget that i am amazing. i start picking away at the petals of armor
say ugly things and worse. and i think them
and i feel ugly. today it feels foolish to get caught up in such a trivial way

tom thumbs blues came on the radio
dylan has been my salvation lately.
out of sheer joy i banged my fist so hard on the steering wheel i hurt myself.
i can't help it i get so excited.

today i sang marching songs. my foot tapped out a revolution. my heart grew so large that it pushed people back into their seats

today was a day of being awkward in the world
lonely and yet so satisfied to be a part of it. truley lonely. not the sad sad way.
just taking in the night. laying on the hood of my car playing music for the electric wires that looked like shimmering train tracks in the sky. today is full of tears and salvation. and absolute love. sometimes i forget to say i love you. but i do. i love you so immensely that it fills an evening like this with light. it is a light i carry. and it can shine infinatley. and it can shine anywhere. share your light.

liebrary

at the library on concord avenue

the shelves are sparse

it feels as tho thunder rips through its walls when people speak

toddlers scream and cars roll and hum

i can't help but notice how it relates to my life

to sitting on the kitchen floor

with my back to the oak cabinets. talking the dissapeared old friends. and thinking of the dissapeared new friends. the quiet isn't comforting tonight. so i flip through channels.

what strikes me is the gold in a klimt painting. and how charlie rose is talking in circles. asking the same questions over and over. and the guest giving the same answers. and her face is stuck to the shimmering tapestry. gold everywhere. her hands in strange strangled positions.

i roll the numbers of the phone. go through them over and over. i can't dial any of them. i don't  know these people anymore. tonight i don't know how to sing or write.

at the library. there are books. there are poems but no poets. the shelves cease to be of interested. the door to the streets clamors open and shut.

jdr

J’s Dining Room

he made me a home in the dining room
chairs were stacked all the way to the moon
and it shone back on the shadows
dead leave crackling under my toes

now I sleep with a different view
wedged tween books earmarked a few
roll one way I’m at the stove
roll the other to the records I rove

so shall it be single shining ray
carve out a place for the stowaways

oh great collector of broken antiques
I’m a part of your collection are you fixing me?
I don’t mind the light streaming in
or being alone as dylan spins
(lay lady lay)

lone star lone moon honey suckle marigold
to be shuffled in the stacks is a sight to behold
this life is possible in kindness to no end
kiss it right back until the world mends

so shall it be single shining ray
carve out a place for the stowaways

6.2006 Elam Blackman

hcs

the honey colored sky is loftier than usual

siren glare

last night j and i got kicked out in the middle of a blues jam
it's bug night jordan yelled from behind the bar
aparently they bomb the lounge every month...
can't be worse for you than stale beer fumes
outside brendan and i dreamed up terrible half hearted band names
he played a dave van ronk tune. i played dylan. i didn't make it throught the song
we were itching to move and said goodbye to b. to the desolate street and headed home.
a few blocks up an old man stood in his white underwear. a towel wrapped around his shoulders

old people get lost i said. j corrected my correct statement. no they get dementia
we crossed the street and tried to ease his embarrasment or ours as the cop gently talked to him lit up in siren glare

Moo ving

well friends I'm moving. my mailing address shall be 60 Market St, Cambridge MA 02138. My home number has been cancelled call me on my cell

mr. elam