Spoonful: A Gathering of Stone Soup Poets

An extension of Cambridge's Stone Soup Poetry Venue.

Paul Haypenny

Photo by Su Red

Four Songs I've Heard

The sea smoke
blowing in hard from Brown’s Bank
swallows McNutt’s Island whole
and rolls toward Gunning Cove wharf
Jimmy and I put my college education
to work chunking Kiacks
and baiting trawl for ten bucks a tub
Somewhere between the onshore wind
and squawking gulls
where who I dream I am flies
Cohen prays

“Like a bird on a wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way
to be free”

Sea’s boiling
chop slamming hard off the bow
frozen noses frozen hands
we’re racing ahead of the gale
I’m puking up my guts and praying for safe home
Jimmy hands me a jug
“put a little “Screech” in your belly
set you up some fine,” he cackles
His eyes blaze mad
Just as my fear consumes me
Waylon howls

“Til now I ain’t found
a rhyme or a reason to change
I’ve always been crazy
but it’s kept me from going insane”

Snow streak moon
flakes settle soft on spruce boughs
Jimmy and I setting snares
family’s tasting rabbit stew
his niece, belly starting to swell with my baby
her innocence stolen
can’t see me already leaving them
for some out there wildness inside
I pray they’ll grant
the grace of forgiveness while
The Band wails

“Wonder could you ever know me
know the reason why I live
Is there nothing you can show me
life seems so little to give”

Smog shroud lights
From Mullholland, L A drifts
slowly to the Pacific
Jimmy’s long dead, drowned in a lake
if you can believe that shit and his niece lit out
looking for sanity
My life is agents, studio hacks,
fantasy cons, designer suits
In the canyons
where the rock and roll ghosts hide
Gene Clark cries

“Paulie come home again
spread your wings to the wind
I’ve felt much of the pain
as it begins”