to transform a thought into reality
as a cat whose eyes appear first.
or the circular out of the hand in the air
on its way to a certain image,
and the hope, unfolding in manifold leaves
of infinite possibility in the rising sun
or is it the setting of the earth?
or is it in fact that way, Black Peter?
when you feel the force leaving you,
was it there in your old forgotten self
wrapped up in untapped pouring?
or was it flitting by under the thunder
by restless wings?
a girl in a blue volks
pulls up by the curb
a second cup of coffee
the steam rising on the wood
rays of setting sun down Clinton
trees and telephone poles in relief
Monday, December 28, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Even as a handy sheet of paper
Posted by Chris Farrell at 6/13/2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
The Neon Gypsies played at the Beanery Friday night. They sounded great and dressed in colorful clothing. Thanks to Kalvin's wife, Keri, for scheduling them. They have a different sound and a different approach from any other band that I have heard.
Here's a drawing of the guitarist:
Posted by Chris Farrell at 3/28/2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Thursday, March 05, 2009
They don't bother about me. They let me be.
They say, "Nothing can happen."
Nothing can happen. It all comes and wheels
Posted by Chris Farrell at 3/05/2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
It was near four o'clock on a September day, so that the atmosphere was well-brewed to a visible haze. There was a deep stillness, broken only by a light rattle, a light chink, a small sweeping sound, and an occasional montone in French, such as might be expected to issue from an ingeniously contructed automaton. Round two long tables were gathered two serrried crowds of human beings, all save one having their faces and attention bent on the tables. The one exception was a melancholy little boy, with his knees and calves simply in their natural clothing of epidermis, but for the rest of his person in a fancy dress. He alone ...
Posted by Chris Farrell at 2/15/2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
From false astrologies and somewhat dismal rites,
changed into the undying and always laid aside,
I have kept a tendency, a solitary savour.
From conversations wasted like powdered lumber,
with the hummility of chairs, with words wrapped up
in slaving for a secondary will,
having that feel of milk, of wasted weeks,
of air locked above cities-
Who is able to boast a more enduring patience?
Prudence envelops me in a tight skin
of colour concentrated like a snake's:
my creatures are born of a wide recoil:
oh with one drink I can say goodbye to this day,
this day I picked from the sameness of earthly days.
Brim-full with substance of a common colour, silent,
I live like an old mother, patience impaled,
a church of shadows, the res-in-peace of bones.
I go, full of these waters profoundly bedded,
laid down in mournful, concentraled sleep.
In my guitar-like innards an old tune plays,
dry, rosonant, fixated, motionless,
a loyal diet, a puff of smoke:
a steady element, a living oil:
a sentinel bird looks after my head,
an invariable angel inhabits my sword.
Posted by Chris Farrell at 2/14/2009
Saturday, February 07, 2009
I started going down to Eugene to train with Pete and Marie, who I've known for 26 years, since I started in Shotokan. The vibe is good and Pete teaches a good class, with good concepts, and the feeling is that I'll probably start doing that on Fridays. It's only fifty minutes down there. We are training in a gym on 27th and willamette, whose name I forget. Eight bucks for a day pass, and the floor is a good wood floor. It just feels very relaxed and reminds me of the good old days in karate, when we had some fun and sweated a lot, and nobody broke any bones.
Posted by Chris Farrell at 2/07/2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
If only for once it were still.
If the not quite right and the why this
could be muted, and the neighbor's laughter
and the static my senses make-
if all of it didn't keep me from coming awake-
then in one thousandfold thought
I could think you up to where thinking ends.
I could possess you,
even for the brevity of a smile,
to offer you
to all that lives,
rilke, book of hours
Posted by Chris Farrell at 2/04/2009
Sunday, February 01, 2009
"I wish to live ever as to derive my satisfactions and inspirations from the commonest events, every-day phenomena, so that what my senses hourly perceive, my daily walk, the conversation of my neighbors, may inspire me, and I may dream of no heaven but that which lies about me."-Thoreau
Is there, for honest poverty,
that hings his head, an' a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
we dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
our tils obscure, an' a' that;
the rank is but the guinea's stamp;
the man's a gowd for a' that
Posted by Chris Farrell at 2/01/2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Is it not by his high superfluousness we know
Our God? For to be equal a need
Is natural, animal, mineral: but to fling
Rainbows over the rain
And beauty above the moon, and secret rainbows
On the domes of deep sea-shells,
And make the necessary embrace of breeding
Beautiful also as fire,
Not even the weeds to multiply without blossom
Nor the birds without music-
There is the great humaneness at the heart of things,
The extravagant kindness, the fountain
Humanity can understand, and would flow likewise
If power and desire...
Posted by Chris Farrell at 1/16/2009
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Monday, January 05, 2009
I'm playing at on open mic tonight at Fireworks in Corvallis. Feel free to come down or tune into the webcast starting at 9pm. I won't be the only one playing, but I will probably be the only "Chris." Maybe I can sell another cd. I'm thinking of buying a whole bunch of equipment so that I can start playing cafes, because my voice definitely needs amplification. My guitar is loud anyway, but my voice is kind of weak. I think I would need a mixing board in addition to an amplifier, because all I have right now is an acoustic with a pickup built in, and a microphone and stand for the microphone, and that is it. I think I have the self-confidence to get up and sing and play for two hours, and I have enough songs, so I might as well get started. However, there aren't a lot of venues in Corvallis, and I haven't got anything going as of yet.
Posted by Chris Farrell at 1/05/2009