Sandman's Journal

The new cd has arrived! "Joe" and I drove down to Portland to pick 'em up-- hot off the press-- little plastic biscuits of rhythm and melody.

Yes, Sandman Live and Suspicious! has arrived and is available for purchase. Already, a Chicago label, who Andras gave a pre-copy to, has shown interest in re-releasing it come January. I can't call this a "bidding war" yet, because they're the first financially stable label to get one, but it's a comforting sign that this cd has legs.
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I just wrote this poem. I call it...

Gift Horse

Walk on, little soldiers; march forth into the battleground of sound. Raise your thousand soul-axes. March forward. Fight hard, little John Kerrys and Theresa Heinzes. Shoot straight.

Fear not, slender Davids. Goliath is a fake, and an Outlaw!! Slay him with your sharpened pens, your heavy rhymes, your pounding couplets. Dig trenches and dump in them the remains of all regrets, half-steps, and vain sensitivities.

Bite the head off of the Sidewinder and make drool of its dreary oil. Spit it out and pack mud into its broken mouth. Heal it. Piss on your cracked feet. Walk a mile, barefoot, on burnt turf. Bow to Ichiro Suzuki, Barry Bonds, Michael Moore, Molly Ivins-- and return to me with frizzled hair and sunburnt brow.

Sleep with the lover you love. Make love; be love; see love; seek love; freak love. Keep walking, love. And don't ever forget to thank love. Its teeth are long, strong, green, and powerful. Like a horse from God (fierce and kindly). Without reins, without bridle, and without bit.