Two of my friends deserve a little attention.
Your attention. So I'm gonna bring you to them.
He's my friend and one ofmy favorite poets. I will never forget those sopping drunk nights, sitting on the floor and watching B.J. retrieve papers from his backpack, all wrinkled or folded but ready to be read. He let me see all his stuff in those days, but now we're in different states and different lifetimes I think, sometimes. Still, I respect B.J.'s work now more than ever, and I was so pleased to hear by the Myspace wire that he was recently published in an online poetry journal called Diagram.
B.J.'s poetry has always been musical and masterful in its language play, sound and rhythm. Any poem I've read of B.J.'s has been tactile, it's language-image has been so powerful. But what I love about these new pieces is the heart, the humanity and the "I" that only peered around the words before. These published poems are my friend, right there inside. And that makes them that much more beautiful.
The picture of B.J. (left in blue) above is from a goodbye party for friend Matt Larson, a humble,intelligent and beautiful bluegrass musician that left Chicago for Iowa last year. He's one of the sweetest and well-meaning people I know. Matt gets involved with green projects, theater projects and all kids of projects-- the biggest being his haunting musical endeaver, the album Son of Lars. I listened to many of these lonely, lovely tunes sitting with Matt in his attic back in Chicago. I was never so moved by simple tunes or impressed by such complex story. The lyrics are pulled from many different sources, including Norse mythology and tall tales, in the tradition of Folk and Bluegraass, of course. Matt Larson is a classic storyteller, and his voice will break your heart.
B.J.'s now on to Iowa as well. I miss them both, and loved these parties at Danimal's house. This was a rare performance, though. Good times. Go see their work. It's worth it. And not just because they're friends and amazing people. But because I know what's good. Really. I do.
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