GRIND IT OUT

Dark had made itself at home

on the road, there was no one

along to help cut the night

as the radio featured an interview

of a vaguely familiar John Pryne.

I was trapped in a web of spun

satin when Terry asked him all

the right questions. And John

answered in smooth rasps for

over thirty miles of Florida

highway.

She asked,

“Are you in remission now?”

“I’m healed,”

“And were you lonely

when you couldn’t talk?”

“I was real lonesome”

“How about something

from your new album?”

So he paved the next

five miles with gravel

to the tune of

“Try to Remember.”

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

Lord how I miss John Prine. for forty years his music was a huge part of the soundtrack of my life. Yes, I still have the music, but not the magical wit of the storyteller weaving life from stage. Beautiful poem to a man and a place here Vol

ken

[Vol]

All the best ones are either gone or leaving...

[Ken Simm.]

Modern Americana. Thoughts of the poet when driving through atmosphere and creating from the voices he hears.

[Vol]

Ken,
Nail on the head!
Vol