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Poems On / About JUNE  4/19/2015 9:06:00 AM
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  77.     

In Pursuit Of The Poetic Soul Of Ryan Adams

In Pursuit of the Poetic Soul of Ryan Adams

By Uriah Lee Hamilton

Last day of summer, football Saturday afternoon. A Warm breeze was pushing me toward Ann Arbor like a happy autumn leaf in pursuit of the beautiful poetic soul of Ryan Adams. Lovely charming mood all the way playing Easy Tiger and Demolition and feeling like the universe was kind and smiling.
Exit off 94 West onto State Street and all excited to make my way to Liberty Street and the heart of the College town I love. Kids were milling around everywhere in their gold and blue, gleeful and happy that Michigan is now playing 500 football after a discouraging start. Parking spaces across the street from Michigan Theater in the parking structure are all taken, I have to drive to the roof and still wait for a football fan to leave.
Me and my friend Cassandra start walking around and dig everything and everyone we see. Ann Arbor brings out your gentle Jack Kerouac nature, the part of you that wants to praise everything for it’s sad but beautiful, integral purpose to this existence.
We enter an Eastern clothing and folk art store that is positively charming and enlightening. I can’t remember the name of the store. Perhaps, it is called the Enchanted Sarong. It almost felt like George Harrison was there with us, beautiful carved statues of Buddha and Krishna and Ganesha were everywhere. The sales lady was friendly and helpful and said sweetly, “we’re Om friendly” as we asked about carved symbols for the breath-word Om. The serene incense Nag Champa drifted through the room but it was now time to leave and make our way to the Ryan Adams concert at Michigan Theater.
I purchased my tickets the very minute they went on sale and prayed I had front row despite my tickets saying double A. No Such luck, but I was still happy to be in row 27. As I was waiting for the show to begin, I saw my concert friend Jeremy and got his attention. He looked as happy and as excited as myself and said he had spent a fortune at some cool record store. Jeremy then handed me a beautiful soundboard copy of Ryan Adams at the Gem Theater in downtown Detroit June 20th 2007. Man, how I’ve been longing for that show! I then gave Jeremy a copy of Ryan’s punk rock band the Finger.
Now the lights go out and the music begins. Ryan Opens with Goodnight Rose and closes with Goodnight Hollywood Boulevard. Everything in-between is just magical. The first auspicious sign was that Ryan came out playing guitar! ! In June, he only sang, he didn’t play any instruments, some injury sidelined him. The June Show as a result was more subtle, almost like MTV Unplugged. Subtle but amazing. Last night was more rocking and adventurous with reworked extended arrangements, ala the Grateful Dead. In particular was a long and lovely version of Off Broadway from Easy Tiger. At the completion of Off Broadway, I shouted, “That was gorgeous! ” Of course, I may have added an expletive, all in the interest of ecstatic joy for music.
Ryan told a story during the show about running into a girl on her way to the concert that didn’t recognize him because he dresses like a plumber. My friend after the show said she thought she saw Ryan Adams on the street near the theater. I asked, “Really? ” She said, “I saw someone that looked like a plumber.” I can say, I didn’t see Ryan on the streets anywhere in Ann Arbor yesterday, but I have been known to miss a plumber or two in my day.
The first two songs in the encore made the whole show for me. Ryan came out by himself with an acoustic guitar and sang Call Me On Your Way Back Home. Toward the end of the song, Ryan played harmonica and I screamed like a schoolgirl, pretty much the way I do whenever Bobby Dylan plays harmonica! And if that wasn’t enough to make the end of summer completely magical, Ryan then sat down at the piano and sang Sylvia Plath: Oh my God, the point of tears! I’ve waited six years to hear him sing that song live from the Album Gold. As I told my friend, that was the song that sealed the deal making Ryan Adams my modern hero! If you want to get my attention and loyalty, sing about one of the tragic poets I love.
 
Uriah Hamilton

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  78.     

June

June always came with
A new school bag
Brown paper and pencil boxes
Hot bath water and raincoats
Making it to school on wet roads

We began writing
On the first pages of our notebooks
And it rained for the first time
On our school play ground
It was always this time around

We always managed to make more space
For the wet raincoats and umbrellas to dry
And tried really hard so there was no space
For the rain drops our books to try
Still if homework had been 'washed in rain'
We 'forgot it' at home by the window pane

June.. we wrote so neatly
Because the rain bird sang so sweetly
Some long time back
When June came with a new school bag.
 
Dharinee Bapat

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  79.     

Joys Of Life (Revised)

Luxuriously caressed by camaraderie, Hanlie weaving
such threads of happy, bright-smile delight; June being
mischievously buoyant, Hermien devoted to conscien-
tious duty and an elfin interest in what is going on
while Mapula looks great

Ulrike an uplifting perfectionist determined to never hurt
anybody, making sure everyone is OK – finally, end of
day; while I complain about my incompetency Hanlie
is laughing; feeling inferior is one of the perks of the
job - she happily claims

As translators too often feel superior to scholars con-
fining themselves to academic posts; June reporting
a ‘healthy’ person happily donating blood on request
while her own was refused due to iron deficiency, we
recommend bed rest and medicine

Quoting Madame la Pompadour’s amazing strategy -
Hanlie an epitome of inner beauty, June doing thank-
less proofreading jobs – while I glow with inner
delight, wafting home in joyous surrender
to the joys of life…
 
Margaret Alice Second

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  80.     

From Anderson's Piano: Cruachan: Derailed Train

A rare red rose bloomed for a week in June.
Perhaps it saved the lives of those
who came unharmed from the rock-tripped train
high above deep water in Argyll
where the long loch is death's wake deep
and the wild rose blooms in a canyon,
the rare red wild June rose.

Late light of June, lasting almost
all night, they file at evening's end
in a forced trudge to Cruachan,
tracks empty and safe as houses,
this desolate dedicated railroad
five miles or more from all houses

but how lucky, here's Cruachan,
power station under the mountain
of caves and a visitor centre,
bread and soup and a small first aid box,
a flare of yellow light in the dusk,
sweet tea for the shaken driver.

Causeway, from Anderson's Piano
 
Sally Evans

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Poems On / About JUNE