keep askin the Lord

keep askin the Lord to buy me

keep askin the Lord to buy me

i keep askin the Lord to buy me, my own Harley and a Benz.

been askin the Lord to find me

been askin the Lord to find me

i've been askin the Lord to find me, give me peace inside my head.

keep tellin the Lord he needs me

keep tellin the Lord he needs me

i keep tellin the Lord he needs me, cause i'm good at setting trends.

keep hoping the Lord will feed me

keep hoping the Lord will feed me

i keep hoping the Lord will feed me, till i can find more friends.

been begging the Lord to free me

been begging the Lord to free me

i been begging the Lord to free me, cause i'm scared of being dead.

Adalaid

It kills me like a mid-april freeze

To know you somehow still believe

If I sleep, I sleep with anger

Even then my dreams are plagued with danger.

I try to climb a hill every day

Till I can much more strongly say

That I'm lost and I'm falling

This engine is cold and its stalling.

I find the sun still shines through your eyelids

When hell draws close your lashes singe

While you raise prayers for the jaded

and for souls beat-down and faded.

When you ride the river you'll feel the wind

The peace you claim will fill your skin

But we've all been deflated

By jagged rocks you've evaded.

You're a down-trod angel Adalaid

Who's scarcely sinned or been afraid

If you should say a prayer

Use your innocence and share.

You must know, we're all groping.

Mere heathens, hoping.

That your God, is there.

23

Today is my twenty third birthday. Oddly enough it reminds me of a birthday I had almost a decade ago. The only thing I planned is fishing. By myself. Not because I don't have friends, or because I don't like the ones I have; but merely because it is summer. The sun is hot, the river is cold and there are trout, so the river beckons. I remember turning fourteen and begging for a ride to Boiling Springs and the special regulations waters below the spring fed lake. I don't need to ask for a ride now, just a day off work. Its my first birthday away from home. The annual beat of family tradition, carrot cake and cream cheese frosting will not be had. I doubt there will be any candles or shredded coconut, to extinguish and scatter. Probably very little wrapping paper today, but maybe a few pale ales paid for by the brothers I have found here in the west. I still fish today.

This western river the Provo is bigger and stronger than my home-waters back east and in many ways more alive. I am careful as I walk the bank to look up frequently and scan the brush that crowds the riverbank. This is moose country. Lord knows I don't want a stand-off with a moose. Especially not on my birthday. I never wanted to die on by birthday. I've heard people romanticize it as a bookend way to pass (dying on your birthday, not by moose antler). By now, if my Mom is reading this then she is going worry about me and my fishing trips, and for that I am sorry.

Alas I did not meet a moose today. Just trout. Trout on dry flies in the tail-out of a pool, where fast water meets slow. Up against far bank, where pale morning duns were made dizzy in the swirling currents of the seam. Twenty inches, finned and spotted. Dialed in on the emerging mayflies, rising, shoulder swirling, nose and tailing, driving me mad for over an hour. Until I drew from my box, the comparadun, oh deadly pattern. This fly has history. That particular fly, the week before, had caught fifteen rising trout while the fisherman across the stream (throwing a dry fly as well) hooked one. So sure, the comparadun was arrogant but so was the rising fish - not 35 feet from where I was standing. They deserved eachother. Six casts later the great fish interrupted the fly's drift and my rod tip went up instinctually. The river was saying happy birthday.

for pop

this week i heard both Roberto Carlos and Leo Dan multiple times on the radio in the restaurant kitchen. i can sing along to parts of the songs while i tray up food. its funny, and people wonder how i know those songs. it brings back memories. wearing work boots. sister joy's house. attic crawl spaces. rotting airborne insulation. the old blue ford van. or maybe even the green one. cutting roof antennas like timber. laura warfel. state street. being proud of my tool belt. cat pee. plaster falling on my head. breaking trim and yelling. enjoying demolition and sledgehammers. being unable to find a tool in the messy van and not wanting to go inside and tell you. scary pit bulls in the neighbors yard. avocados in the lunchbox. no silverware. black people who got black because of roof tar. "mi hijo." joint compound and screw holes. boring long waits at Fager's on cushy stools. eating chinese food instead of mom's packed lunch. sanding into the night. failing to hold the flashlight still. muffins. hot chocolate. diners. noo-ah, noah. noo-ah, noah. "pichón." wearing dust masks to keep our faces warm. sleeping on the way home. no a/c. bowmansdale. eating mom's packed lunch in the van on Second St. before going inside. guilty. walking inside feeling manly after a good day's work. whispering to Ollie about chinese food. 20min. in the side yard with small goals. shirt grabbing and fouls. big creek or little creek.

i think about you often, miss you as much, brag about you when i can. love you.

owen

most leave

Look over the sea and there's a sun

who hasn't won, who hasn't won.

Scour the coast when there's a storm

see where its from, see where its from.

Look over the cliff and there are bones

among the stones, among the stones.

Throw dust to the air let it blow

see where it goes, see where it goes

Search through the hills for what you need

you'll find it steep, you'll find it steep

Ask of the trees what they believe

you'll find they breath, you'll find they breath.

Ask of the gods if they'll compete.

You'll find most leave, you'll find most leave.

heaven.

cool mornings. warm afternoons. cold moving water. trout. grass. peace.

before the sack. before i leave.

my feet hurt. from the slippery rocks in the river.

and ninety minutes running on a grassy pitch.

bug bites itch, but the day on the river is worth it.

i cast my 4 and 5 weights on the city park lawn today.

then conversed with an old mormon fellow for a bit.

we talked about life.

i climbed a small mountain and watched the moon rise over the rockies.

i have never seen the moon actually make its way over the horizon before.

the exact opposite of a sunset. a completely new experience.

when i see something like that for the first time,

it shames me to realize that i never sought it out before.

i'm gonna climb mount olympus before i leave and

paddle to antelope island in a canoe.

finish an EP, and play some shows.

serve a lot of soup and salad to a lot of ungrateful people.

and meet a precious few.

In a boat with no one

My story is told by, those who hate

if they want my heart, like hell, they'll wait

for a clear blue sky, an un-obstructed sun

on a vacant sea with no one.

My blood flows fine, inside my veins

until the last chorus, and its refrain

when you lift your hands, as if in praise

but you suffer your week, as always

you suffer. and you're weak. as always.

I hear in your town, you all have guns

you shoot for fun, and then some

i can't believe, in a faith that pleas

pleas for justice, with weapons.

If you expect to understand, just how i breath

smoke fifty years of cigarettes, and then you'll know with ease

because the sea was never this kind,

if you judge my life by this, you'd say its fine

there is something wrong with how you're freed

when you fortune is wrapped up, and guaranteed.

My story is old, I feel its fate

it drags me down, so I sit and wait

under a clear blue sky, an un-obstructed sun

on a vacant sea in a boat with no one.

for Jerry - friend, nam-vet, co-worker.

to chico

i listened to "things we said today" in my car tonight.  i thought about you. i hope you are still practicing your guitar.  when i get back we are going to skate in york.  and cast fly rods.  for sure. take care of orianna for me.  give her a kissy.

-wild west