 Thank you so much for coming. Yeah, thanks for coming. I think we're just going to launch. There are, well, I will say there are programs in on that back table that we didn't get one. This is the first time in my life I've ever made a program for a concert usually. We just, there was so much here where we thought maybe you'd actually want to be able to look up all the time. What else? Fappings and assayers? They're really an intermission. I think that's it. Welcome to Pomp City Concert. We really love being able to do three concerts sponsored by Pomp City. Thank you. Yeah, and we'll say one more important announcement is that some of you may have seen that I'm always going to be performing with us today. She's not able to be here today, but if you come Thursday next week to the Randolph-Honkham event, she will be performing with us there at 7 at the Schambler in Randolph-Honkham. Next week also bringing at 7. And she's also giving her, she'll be giving, doing an event, another event later in the month also. Pomp City involved in a theme swap and, hopefully, a lot of other cool things on that same thing. I should look at that. I want to answer that to break my name. The faint, soft rustle flutters like dragonflies in a dark, cramped cavity of the background is still in my canoe. I've nested there under the shedwood since March. Then three brofiles on a cauldron to this first panacea. Move us out of here. I'm still worried. How's it for winter? Drumming rainbeats against a mist and seagull in the shoulder. Flaming. I'm sticking my neck out and easing my throat, like for a second. That snow has been over. Without opening my eyes on the morning of the first snow, it's just the absence of hope. So punching it hard with the fallen leaves, I am drowning, alive with kidding. There's uncountably more of the change in seasons. The silence, the darkness. Soon the snow-smell becomes the unnoticed background by your chronic ache that one grows used to. Except on those transcendent breakthrough days of warmth and January, a weird temporary reminder of what we have lost. For it is all a temporary. The blackbird takes wing. The marks disappear. The elms and white ash trees die. The ocean turns to plastic. The forest burns. The demon flees the tsunamis of the sea and of the mind. Stay with this first snow of winter. A bearable transition beside your bed to capture dreams before they escape. Like crystal in the sun, a poet's verse, never stopped creating, keeping to meet with our fellow foragers and queens. It is close by your day, wise. Thank you, dear. It's real, I mean it. I see myself in the way of beauty. I'm outside and looking for trees to hear the birds and that's beautiful. Is it standing in the middle of the road? Taking out a rock? Or please, please let me hop on. I might be above or I swear. Sometimes. How often does it happen this way? How often you're standing there with your thumb out and no one's on the road? The first one was inspired by all of the problems and I'm thinking about kids who grow up in such places and from what they have to carry through their lives. The second one, I don't want to say about it, it comes from a workshop that a friend of mine went to, called Mögen and then to Kotlin. She thought that people were not engaging. She was disappointed if there was a panic discussion over her audience's participation or something and she thought that people were distracting themselves rather than engaging and somebody said that they hang out with their friends and she thought that that was a cop-up. So I wrote this accurately to suggest that hanging out with friends is not necessarily a cop-up, although that's still in here. Yeah, I guess for me, the afternoon that first came was the Nazi-Jewish diaspora that belonged to that diaspora and this is a great mental clover and I guess this question that continues to sit with us is how can some people from a diaspora that's experienced a genocide and do something just as horrific to another diaspora people? So something I wonder a lot about hanging out in multiple marginalized spaces is, you know, what motivates her people or her people? What are we in danger of forgetting? What we are in danger of remembering? Post-traumatic stress? We catch the lateral pass of our unconscious parents Tulsa to our life's grave, to our survival. Would be too much. We are blessed by dissociation. A break-hold where trauma lives unseen except for the vague feeling that the world is unsafe but waiting for the shield to crack Better to blame or to destroy the enemy Better to start the cycle of trauma over it Being sacred in space with my friends for myself is the next step Speaking truth to myself Holding space for myself Centuries from now people will discover that and try to think about what this is called there in these chronicles There are none of them today This is an Arab historian This is called Don Branson by April Armstrong And you met this poem on a little bit of a shop in town during home city a hundred years ago That's how we met April I told you I saw them in their soul But who trusted an inappropriate or disbeliefful for a description as these late autumn afternoons whose slanted autumn white makes the green fire of a backlit tree's shimmering leaves between yearning and consent As if I finally understood what beauty meant when I was six years old it did not appear to me that it would have flowed as the cold broke flowed under me my father's head a stream of sweet father and his left-done bills laid out drying in the sun This poem is not about us Each one shed its crystals Poisoned, unbound they shed their tishful wings to the morning heat to run off then turned both our ends of the matter to founts on the wind to france in the leaves with wings of rainbow colors giving their way Skipping off to hide and lose their old man but we can stare at as our famed wandless what wand's curl was easy enough to see And close, I longered to chase the future sun though I was one step slower they were busy fighting too quick as I caught my breath both had flown to far-off, scented air grown with little thought of home were these fields so long with bushes or whistle with wings and ponds bounce and tees actually it's in the mountain center a good place for a clean line at the super market judging the man who by myself is slow slow to find his credit card slow to pack his groceries through the space of our lives sad to be so slow embarrassed to be GED shuffling along perhaps to our flow or perhaps to the exit doors to the primal sun and cruel breeze an unexpected pity outsoat the smell of fresh blade spray feeling it in every cell with joy as in the past because I will never again hike to the summit of Mt. Abraham Martin Street or whatnot and she's like he's writing something called that was a mob killer and then she left she left this little note on my counter that had about ten notes on it on a little bit of sound and it said hill's mob killer and then it said dot dot dot so this is what it turned out to be others often seem to be as wise compassionate loving lost glass smooth and true just as the shivering has to leave and this moment of presence are reflecting the mind and he sent us this one and we actually we recorded it and we played and he sent we made a film recording on my iPhone and we like texted it to him and we were actually going to play I mean and he responded to that and we were going to play it for him and he was ready to he was ready to end his life with opportunities before we actually got to play for him personally so thank you for you of all the foolish guesses about the afterlife is earthly drama instead of floating into a way of inner and whistling off to the heavenly after party acts out with us their human heart perhaps a fortnight reluctant to wave the final goodbye surely but also perhaps to be seen to show off their human heart to patch up our hearts that they might have some affection for another season at least sense molecules in motion nothing more but if we saw something the flash of sun in their wings we would surely lay down the dull tools of this life and shout oh what beautiful wings you have how do you understand those沒有 okay alright we're out to the audience yes yell at me next I'm yelling there about that at the end of the time. Driving directions. Where do you want to go? Middlebury or not? Finding directions to not kill you if you want. No, I said Middlebury. Finding directions to not kill you if you want to kill you if you want to. I already know how to get to not kill you. Are you sure? Tell me about it. But that was in Syracuse and at night. I had turned onto a dirt road instead of route 8 last Friday. I knew that I was tired and it was New York State. But I still know my way to not kill you. You shouldn't be driving at all. You are a cell phone app, not my mother. Think of the lines of other drivers who are putting a risk. I saw you almost hit that car on Main Street last night. Downtown Marketeria, by the way. I'm losing it so fast. I'm the best therapist in your own best mother. I can't tell you how to get where you need to go. Finding directions. Based on a true story. He's next too. What's the mental life community? This is a community of people who do retreats a few times a year. And it's very, very sweet. It's very sweet community. Very important to me in my life. So the first, we do them together. The first is by Mike Sweeney. And the second one is by Noble Chute. I've been wondering about paper. That is everywhere. And the color of every book I scan. It covers all of me. It is the word of my physical being. How tender. How vulnerable. And a shield of words. And an undeniable leverage. Next to life. I will stand just left of experience. I will be unassailable. Beyond the edge of joy. No backwards across my forehead. So that every glance you learn is reminded. It's not so much fun. A dynamic vessel frozen. While you take me in after the rain. The way it is. Is the only way a candy is found. And fighting that hurts. I can learn to trust the process again. It's actually a thing that I wrote for them. And then he got divorced. And then I was like, well, I guess the poem trust. And I guess I didn't work at home. I made the poem trust to a poem that now was. Yeah, but now you're back together. So it actually is a lifeline performance. I can learn to trust the process again. And it felt really good. And so being here for that. That's the first time we've performed it. Since all of that. The next poem was called. The mountain is infernal. And it also is based on true story. From talking loudly. Alarms sound. Someone drives. Hello. Help me. And loudly. Out of tune. What do you need? She strokes my hair. Kisses my forehead. Someone scolds her. Get back to your bed. Surely it is one of the reasons that I have. It's the emergency room at South Shore University Hospital. They show up all night. In another world, ages and ages ago, I worked as a lawyer. Literally a basket of doing yourself the curriculum for his hard board record 78RTN. That was made in 1948 in New Orleans, including one booth by Tennessee Williams. And one of the records contained a poem that I instantly fell in love with and memorized. It has since been published and my favorite line in the poem has been changed. So the version you're going to hear has the original line. I think the reason why it got changed is that I don't know if you know the character, Piero. See what I mean. I think in 1948, more people would have heard of Piero. He is the character in the Commedia dell'Arte. Lines often played in white. And he is constantly moving calmly who always rejects him. He'll be followed by a much more contender called by Michael Kiesel Moore, called the year gentleness died. First the Tennessee Williams. The strange, the crazed, the queer will have their holiday this year. For just a little while there will be pity for the wild. I think in places known as gay in clothes and cabarets and bars Piero will serenade Piero with frantic drums and sad guitars. Mercy will be shown this season to the lovely and this sweet to the brilliant and deformed. I think they will be housed and warmed and fed and comforted a while before with such a tender smile the earth destroys her crooked child. The year gentleness died Piero robs the foe of righteous men who at his core he was all gentleness of faith against the gentleness. If he never made charity he lost the year gentleness died. In the tens, then the hundreds we lost them by the thousands then ten times that across all the lands they kept falling. They might first float here amid an only one earth made from flesh and blood of porous mountains where a dark full heart they soak in warm, absurdity. Stay warm and granted your only guidance. A primal silent pooling and rising from somewhere deep within your belly in stars is the infinite dance of light upon a shrine as written on the rocks in the world to see that they make it whole without selling we are not so far to launch with the dogs who have no idea where we are in them. This is actually, I know. It was definitely a collaboration a way to show off how music and art can work together. This is a recent goal of mine but it really is about the pain. Do we need to say anything? We'll talk about it after a break. The font says it up. Great sounds change in sunset from a distinct cheap cheap to a prepositional tremble holding suspense. How new sound are we waiting for? The sound of the maracas tend to be first two may be venturing the tone from across the forest. Soon, the understory of critics is overwhelmed by the music of hundreds, thousands of catered to the sanctuary, the safest place to be. Usually, though, our performances are very Susan Reed and this is the leader not the first phone tonight by Susan. Who is in the house? Eight of her poems are featured on our Guardian Queen's album and this is the title Poa, Guardian Dreams. This is also Susan Reed. This is an album. It's an urban job. It's been three months. Then, during the governor's department job, no, I didn't forget the frigate fiddleheads. Some commercial critic often walled in that spot last year. Check somewhere else. Just a minute. More of the Eastlanders? You don't care that they're in danger all right. That's awesome.