boys who dream of flying

ive known them. and as men they remember maybe only faintly, but they remember. the way that it felt, and the height, and the rightness of it.



i sang a new song at the memphis gig. it was meant as a gift that night. i wrote it about a month before we left, and i had a group of real people in mind i was writing about, people who had suffered that i knew, and were i thought made ripe by the suffering. but i knew they werent all ripe, and i wrote it like a premonition of things to come. and they came. but i sang it anyway that night, although maybe none of us deserved any mercy.



i think my boy might have dreamt of it, flying. he felt like a flyer to me.

(pix by d. kraai)