Two from one of my old notebooks.
poem
The traveler, Justin Townes Earle, gone from the tower of song too soon.
There once was a world. Now, we have days & days & days… of waiting.
Peter Green is gone. Dreamer, visionary, and otherworldly bluesman.
Just three floors short! And no elevator. Not any more.
The Palace at night. Memories from a far-off place, from a far-off time.
We have what we have. Others might dream of destruction. Hold on.
We must keep searching for our epic moments, and write them down lest we forget.
A few final thoughts as we approach the beginning of a new year at The Palace.
On every street, a wall of eyes in every color, asking all the right questions, refusing to leave until they get answers.
Goat Palace 