I’ve been trying to write some music around which to frame Mike’s poem from a little further down.
These lines in particular really got to me:
sought where it isn’t
“Against the grass uncut as mist falls bending light over wrappers and cans round beneath the rusted bridge where a man hangs by a cable”
” maps litter the backseat taken from the center where the man speaks a history that turns in and over itself wrapping me by”
I think there’s a song in there. A really pretty/creepy song.
Also, I need to get this whole new site thing figured out so I can post the newest recordings we’ve been working on. We’ve settled on the name Dash Eight (a nod to Piedmont/Chesapeake air and the Wico./O.C. Regional airport at which Mike and I always seem to end up…) That’s right- we have a name for real this time! Website can’t be too far behind, can it? Stay tuned. For a while.