tag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:/blogs/occasional-musings?p=3Occasional Musings...2021-04-29T17:35:53-07:00Rags Rosenbergfalsetag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66174982021-04-29T17:35:53-07:002022-04-30T13:53:02-07:00April 29 - "Time"<p>Today's poem is an imaginary exploration of that phenomenon by which we measure and organize our lives and<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/cc199949daf78f11d8d6bde7732120e7a2e953e0/original/april-29-calendar-date-jpg.jpg/!!/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_right border_none" alt="" /> aptly begins, "Once upon a time..."</p>
<p>It astounds me how many euphemisms and metaphorical references there are involving the word "time" in our daily speech. Gregory Titleman's <em>America's Popular Proverbs and Sayings</em> lists at least 40 sayings referencing "time" and I'm sure I could find many more. That is, if I were to take the time. </p>
<p>Just for fun, try to notice every Time you use that word today. But don't spend too much Time doing it, because, as we all know, Time is money!</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong><em>Time</em></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Once upon a time,<br>when there was still plenty of the stuff,<br>before we strapped it to our wrists,<br><br>before it told us when to sleep<br>and when to wake,<br>before all of that,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>before it measured our lives<br>with candles on cakes,<br>before it could be wasted,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>before if could be suspended<br>or given to a friend,<br>before it became something we could make,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>before it was used to heal all wounds,<br>before you could have a good one<br>or a bad one,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>before it invented the future and the past,<br>before it was fast, or slow, early or late,<br>yeah, before all of that:</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>We just hung out on Chauncey's front porch<br>on lazy, yellow afternoons,<br>watching the old men play checkers,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>hiked to the top of Lookout Mountain,<br>looked out over the simple homes<br>and revel in the lack of progress.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>No one knows exactly what happened.<br>Some say time got bored,<br>or was captured by our imagination</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>and put to work<br>so it could earn its keep<br>like everyone else.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>No one ever thought<br>it would learn to fly,<br>by then, there was no stopping it.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Phillip (rags) Rosenberg</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read "Time." </strong> </p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month! </p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree, <br>rags</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>0:59Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66153832021-04-27T14:45:05-07:002022-08-26T11:25:44-07:00April 27 - Wanting<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/e04897c213aa6327eb5544778685a5f07c16e660/original/april-27-calendar-date-jpg.jpg/!!/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />I wrote "Raised in the Shadow" in 1997 and it sold out twice before I stopped reprinting it. At the time, I was single-mindedly focused on being a songwriter, so the successes of my work in poetry didn't impress me much and I let that book and the poetry in my life fall by the wayside.</p>
<p>Today's poem speaks to how a single-minded desire to be a successful songwriter may have blinded me to other possibilities that had come knocking. What opportunities have presented themselves to you that you may have ignored or missed because you were looking in another direction?</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>Wanting</strong></em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>You can want something<br>so much, so long, so badly,<br>when it finally comes to your door<br>you mistake it for a beggar and<br>send it away.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>The wanting has become<br>the end in and of itself,<br>a mask, rendering unrecognizable<br>the true nature of your desire.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Throw off your wanting and<br>you will see clearly these gifts<br>that come to visit you.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Admit them all!<br>Lavish them with gratitude!</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read "Wanting." </strong> </p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month! </p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree, <br>rags</p>0:52Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66126642021-04-24T07:37:35-07:002021-04-24T20:36:40-07:00April 24 - My Father's World<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/91d0e139ec670f9998026393e7e4654cd86f0482/original/april-24-calendar-page-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_right border_none" alt="" />For most of human history, the old among us were venerated. Their learned wisdom was passed down to the youth. There were rites of initiation. There was mentoring. </p>
<p>In today's world, the beauty of youth is celebrated above all and, for the most part, the wisdom of the aged is lost in the hallways of skilled nursing facilities.</p>
<p>Especially now, as the technologically dependent world moves at lightning-cable speed, it becomes increasingly difficult for us to remain relevant as we age. </p>
<p>I still have a few of my father's tools, some of which you could never find at a Home Depot. Holding his old wood-handled chisels in my hands inspired this poem.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">My Father's World</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">They came in white laboratory coats <br>soldering under microscopes <br>in dust-free rooms, <br>pushing my father’s world of blunt tools aside. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">That world is fading slowly now into <br>the cracks of an old man’s memory. <br>It can barely be seen <br>through the dark glass. Look! </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Do you see that ball-peen hammer? <br>the chisels laid out <br>evenly on the wooden bench? <br>They appear Neolithic, </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">relics of another way of <br>moving mountains. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">My father lives marginally <br>in this modern world. <br>After eighty-three years <br>he’s taken to preaching. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Eight or ten people gather <br>in someone’s living room <br>and listen to his account of dying <br>on the operating table. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">They support him with love offerings. <br>Occasionally , he loses his place and <br>thinks he’s back in the shipyard <br>doing an important job; </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">the men in laboratory coats <br>remove him quickly and ask <br>him to not return.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read "My Father's World" </strong> </p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month! </p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree, <br>rags</p>1:08Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66106892021-04-23T09:03:29-07:002022-05-10T22:04:59-07:00April 23 - A Walk In The Woods <p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/ee5cc6d2f3f656ab9627310bf3606aa01ad236b7/original/april-23-calendar-date.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />Long after I'd written "A Walk In The Woods", I found this story about the poet, Rainer Rilke:</p>
<p><em>"One very dark night, Rilke and two friends perceive the lighted casement of a distant hut, the hut that stands quite alone on the horizon before one comes to fields and marshlands. This image of solitude symbolized by a single light moves the poet’s heart in so personal a way that it isolates him from his companions." - Gaston Bachelard from "The Poetics of Space."</em></p>
<p>This story evokes the same romance/curiosity/longing in me that I tried to capture in my little poem:</p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong><em>A Walk In The Woods</em></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Dusk settles into the valley,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Across the water,<br>a dim light in a cabin window,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Along the shore,<br>expectations and assumptions<br>float between the reeds,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Far off: the wild, raging river.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read "A Walk In The Woods" </strong> </p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month! </p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree, <br>rags</p>
<p> </p>0:36Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66082532021-04-19T13:07:43-07:002022-05-26T15:08:19-07:00April 19 - An homage to Robert Bly<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/e94e709abf641898888facbd0f35844d76da62cf/original/april-19-calendar-date.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />Robert Bly, a National Book Award winner, taught poetry by taking his students out into the fields of Minnesota so they could speak to stones. He is a lovable and kind straight shooter, a man who doesn't abide fools, and has no time for B.S. </p>
<p>He took a lot of heat from his fellow poets during the Vietnam era for being a staunch anti-war activist and was a leader in what Wikipedia calls the "mythopoetic men's movement." He's still with us at 94 years old. </p>
<p>I consider his endorsement of <a contents="Raised In The Shadow" data-link-label="Poetry" data-link-type="page" href="/poetry" target="_blank"><em>Raised In The Shadow </em></a> to be one of the greatest honors of my life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>To Robert</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>One day,<br>(who can say how?)<br>you slipped inside a stone<br>and spoke its truth,<br>learned to speak the native<br>tongue of winter wheat.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Now,<br>wherever you go,<br>you find abandoned <br>gardens to attend.<br><br>And yes,<br>I've heard the accounts<br>of the trouble you caused,<br>salvos of heavy verse fired<br>at the inhumanity of<br>heads of state. Oh, how you<br>rocked their narrow boats<br>in the Great Sea!</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Here,<br>in the broad wake of your work,<br>grief gives joy its proper weight,<br>shadow defines the curve of light</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>And to this day<br>there are stones<br>in a Minnesota field <br>still whispering your name.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>- Phillip Rosenberg</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p>Click below to hear me read "To Robert." </p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month! </p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree, <br>rags</p>0:58Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66067882021-04-17T10:01:31-07:002021-04-17T11:25:07-07:00April 17 - This Is Not My Life<p>Sometimes I think the poem, "This Is Not My Life," was mistitled because, like it or not, it was the life I was living at the time. After 2 years in Nashville, I was flat broke and my songwriting aspiration was in a shambles.<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/b690738e9df613782d5300ca77a572ec481fd4ab/original/april-17-calendar-date-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_right border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>I was working small carpenter projects as I could find them, and was profoundly unhappy. I couldn't know it would take another ten years to leave that life behind to write full time. </p>
<p>And yet that poem was titled correctly. It was a way to acknowledge the current reality without being bound by it. Speaking an intention out loud, publicly, is a powerful tool for change.</p>
<p>This quote by William H. Murray (often incorrectly attributed to Goethe) comes to mind: "...there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too." </p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>This Is Not My Life</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>This is not my life.<br>I do not live here, inside<br>this narrow arc of the sun,<br>here, where the distance<br>between events is measured<br>on someone else's clock!</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>This is not my life<br>passing from day to day<br>buried under a pile of work<br>on someone else's list <br>of important things.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>No, my life is over there:</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Look carefully,<br>you can see me walking now,<br>steady and calm,<br>catching up with<br>my own footsteps.</em><br> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these daily emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read "The Way I Love You." </strong></p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month and I'll see you tomorrow! </p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree, <br>rags</p>
<p> </p>0:51Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66061492021-04-16T13:43:10-07:002021-04-16T14:25:11-07:00April 16 - The Way I Love You<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/8ae973b96d31af19f4e0062ce92200e977203c23/original/april-16-calendar-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />I'm continuing to post a poem every day in celebration of National Poetry Month. Today's poem is "The Way I Love You," the closing poem in "Raised in the Shadow" and perhaps the most hopeful poem in that 24 year old collection. </p>
<p>Folksinger John Prine sings, "Love has no mind / It can't spell unkind / It's never seen a heart shaped like a Valentine."</p>
<p>The poet Billy Collins says,</p>
<p>"This is the best kind of love, I thought, <br>without recompense, without gifts, <br>or unkind words, without suspicion, <br>or silence on the telephone."</p>
<p>Love like that is difficult, but the only kind worth having.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>The Way I Love You</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>The most difficult thing<br>is to love without claim,<br>to trust without owning,<br>to give up the safety of preconception.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>If we are lucky, those whom we love<br>will never be who we imagine<br>or want. They will never<br>do as we expect.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>The soul, too virile to be<br>contained by our simple<br>expectations, commands<br>its own unique destiny.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>We can never know the people<br>we love. Their truth is far more<br>glorious and alive than<br>we could ever invent.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Rather,<br>we love by allowing something<br>uncontrollable to unfold,<br>and those willing to travel<br>bravely along that vibrant edge,</em><br>if only for the briefest moment,</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Can never love any other way again.</em><br><br> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these daily emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read "The Way I Love You." </strong></p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month and I'll see you tomorrow! </p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree, <br>rags</p>
<p> </p>1:16Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66047792021-04-15T15:49:10-07:002021-04-15T23:44:46-07:00April 15 - Sky Dreamer<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/df612179d1027f58c88463522b69798e52ce03ef/original/april-15-calendar.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_right border_none" alt="" />There was someone in my life many years ago who was a magician, though I didn't realize it at the time. Occasionally, she comes to mind and this is my poem for her.</p>
<p>Have you ever been suddenly awakened from your sound sleep to the magic all around you, been invited out into the brilliant night sky with its uncountable stars and reminded of your childhood wonder? Here's your wakeup call! </p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Skydreamer</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>I was sleeping the deep sleep<br>of the sky dreamer<br>when I thought I heard someone<br>knocking. Rising from my place,<br>I opened the door only a crack.<br><br>There you stood,<br>covered in moon,<br>sparkled in star.<br><br>"Wake up, old man!" you said,<br>your smile broadening to the horizons.<br><br>But isn't it the middle of the night?<br><br>"Yes! What better time to catch the sky dreams?"<br><br>I threw on my courage and,<br>checking my pockets, yelled in a panic<br>"I can't find my net!"</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>"Oh, you silly man" you purred<br>and gently pulled it from<br>behind my ear<br>just like my Uncle Manny<br>used to do with a quarter.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>And you laughed:<br>"It was right there all the time!"</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these daily emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read "It's Always Something." </strong></p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month and I'll see you tomorrow! </p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree, <br>rags</p>
<p> </p>1:03Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66041882021-04-14T14:55:43-07:002022-05-31T01:33:12-07:00April 14 - It's Always Something<p>If you're anything like me, you keep adding things to the list of things you added yesterday to your list of things to do, even though a half-dozen things from last Tuesday's list of things remain incomplete, pushing the limit of whatever capacity for attention, focus and patience remains after a year of lockdown. </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/e54c546e6ee05578b69ae7c2762eaf77bf46b9d3/original/april-14-calendar-date-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" />I get tired. I want a break from all the mostly self-imposed obligations and deadlines, so I occasionally have to stop and remind myself that all those obligations, all those deadlines, are the stuff of which a life is made.</p>
<p>I remind myself that living with incompletion, like living with ambiguity, might be an important life skill I am still learning and that a very long rest awaits me somewhere down the road.</p>
<p>And just when I think I'm about to finally finish that one project that's been hanging out on the edge of my nerves for two weeks, the computer has a fit, or the phone dies, or my collaborator is unavailable, or...</p>
<p>In other words, it's always something. And maybe that's some-thing for which we should be grateful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>It's Always Something</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>It's always something, isn't it?<br>Always something not quite finished,<br>not quite right, needs a nudge<br>this way or that. But what does it mean,<br>"A body at rest?"</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Nothing is ever truly complete<br>except in death, and that only a<br>process concealed from our view.<br>Reaching for the unattainable<br><br>may be our most human quality,<br>and what most endears us to the gods.<br>In the end, it's our longing for perfection<br>our secret desire to break ourselves<br><br>against the unbreakable,<br>that drives us finally into the<br>naked, graceful embrace<br>of our own sweet imperfect nature.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these daily emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you. </em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read </strong><em>"It's Always Something."</em> </p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month and I'll see you tomorrow!</p>
<p>hugs from Joshua Tree,<br>rags</p>
<p> </p>1:11Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66025072021-04-13T10:09:29-07:002021-04-13T12:01:29-07:00April 13 - The Archers<p>National Poetry Month continues with another poem from <a contents="“Raised in the Shadow.”" data-link-label="Poetry" data-link-type="page" href="/poetry" target="_blank">“Raised in the Shadow.”</a> <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/348d3e8be76d1b11e4919c9b3f725727e4df3f22/original/april-13-calendar-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_left border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>You’ve probably heard the old maxim: “What we resist, persists,” found in the I-Ching.</p>
<p>C.G. Jung expanded on this idea. He suggests that as long as we refuse to acknowledge our “shadow”, that not-so-pretty side of ourselves, it will grow in size and become our destiny. </p>
<p>In today’s poem, I’ve imagine the gods as truth-hunters with long bows. When I try to turn away, they know they’re on target and, if I’m paying attention, so do I.</p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>The Archers</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>They are moving quietly<br>through the shadows,<br>barely below the threshold <br>of my discomfort. They are</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>whispering, calling out<br>my true name, the one I forgot.<br>They are tugging, insistent,<br>forceful, their firm, dark hands </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>on the blades of my shoulder,<br>turning me first this way,<br>then that. Like an arrow, they<br>aim me with tender,</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>merciless love, directly toward<br>the center of my fear,<br>their exquisite accuracy<br>measured unerringly</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>by the windsock of my resistance.<br>It is an oddly practical dynamic:<br>the harder I struggle,<br>the clearer their target.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>*Note: If you don't want to get these daily emails in April for National Poetry Month, but don't want to unsubscribe, just reply to this email with no text and I'll remove you.</em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read today's poem. </strong></p>
<p>See you tomorrow!</p>1:12Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66009852021-04-11T11:48:31-07:002021-04-12T11:58:47-07:00April 11- The New Moon<p>Hello Friends. Here we are at day six of our celebration of National Poetry Month with a poem from <a contents='"Raised in the Shadow."' data-link-label="Poetry" data-link-type="page" href="/poetry">"Raised in the Shadow."</a></p>
<p>Tonight is the new moon. It's easy to forget that although we can't see it in tonight's dark sky, it's actually still there! The willingness to believe in the presence of something you can't see is one definition of faith and "Faith of the Moon" is the song in the background of my reading of today's poem, "The Moon" (That's my co-writer Keith Greeninger singing at the end). <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/e8948a9c62db4d08c701ac2b613c9ea0045f5f09/original/april-11-calendar.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.jpg" class="size_s justify_right border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p><a contents="Dr. Catherine Sveha " data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.mythicmojo.com" target="_blank">Dr. Catherine Sveha </a>says: "This new moon rises in the sign of Aries. New moons are always an opportunity to begin something new. Seeds begin their lives in darkness and so do our ideas. Aries is the beginning of the astrological year, lending extra significance to the theme of beginning. Be bold!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong><em>The Moon</em></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>She is a lamp.<br>Her light is turned on deliberately<br>and shaded just so,<br>in a calculated effort to attract.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>And in this way,<br>night after night,<br>she relies on the moth's<br>longing for incandescence <br>to prove her own irresistability.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>But you,<br>you are the moon!<br>Naked and true,<br>with nothing to prove.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>The sun has chosen you,<br>and you alone,<br>to reflect his brilliance.<br>What then do you need with moths?</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Wolves and coyotes call to you,<br>lovers beg your favor,<br>poets invoke your name,<br>the seas rise and fall at your command<br><br>and I, on this journey through the night,<br>would surely lose my way<br>if it were not for your gentle light<br>illuminating my path.</em></p>
<p>Feel free to leave a comment about what intention you are setting or project you will start as this new lunar cycle begins and, in the words of Dr. Svehla, "Be bold!"</p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read today's poem.</strong></p>
<p>See you tomorrow!</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>1:38Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/66000352021-04-10T10:14:49-07:002021-04-11T09:59:59-07:00April 10 - The Red Balloon<p>Hello friends. Here we are at Day 5 of our celebration of National Poetry Month!</p>
<p>Do you have a vision of yourself living a different life? Simpler, more peaceful, perhaps? Do you ever see that life in your mind’s eye? How does it feel when you close your eyes and imagine yourself into that life, into that person you’ve always wanted to be? </p>
<p>A poem can be a vessel for that vision. I created one 24 years ago and it is today’s poem from “Raised in the Shadow.” The life it describes still thrills me. I’m not there yet, but I’m damn close. </p>
<p>Maybe a poem full of intention, once written, flies off like a red balloon into the summer sky and waits for you to catch up to it, somewhere down the road. </p>
<p>Enjoy poem #5 in our celebration of National Poetry Month!</p>
<p><em> Where I Am Going </em></p>
<p><em> Once again, <br> clutter has claimed victory. <br> The days have become unmanageable; <br> Small pieces of life are breaking off and <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/c758656219bbac5e30a7121028a550667361ebf2/original/april-10-calendar-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" /><br> slipping through the cracks, <br> lost forever; <br> <br> Appointments are forgotten and <br> keys misplaced; <br> My firm resolve to aspire to the simple <br> echoes now like a distant cannon <br> firing the first shot of a battle already lost. <br><br> The hopeful young soldiers of organization <br> armed with the best of intention <br> were not overwhelmed quickly,<br> But overcome instead by attrition. <br> They were not defeated in a frontal assault, <br> but rather by a creeping <br> accumulation of camouflaged detail <br> noticed too late: <br><br> too many dishes in the sink, <br> no time to make the bed, <br> too many impossible places to be, <br> too far to travel <br> in too little time <br> and, finally, a checking account <br> beyond reconciliation. <br><br> I know the simple life I long for <br> is within my grasp; <br> It lies dead ahead, <br> just beyond this complexity of habit, <br> just over this hill of accumulation; <br> When I have the strength <br> I will regroup, <br> consolidate, eliminate, re-think. <br> I will have a garage sale;<br> <br> I will sacrifice everything but <br> a small Oriental rug on the <br> polished maple floor, <br> a small oak writing desk <br> by the east window, <br> A vase on the mantle with flowers <br> cut fresh daily <br> from my small but spirited garden;<br> <br> I will make the hard choices; <br> I will undress piece by piece <br> until I am naked, <br> until there is nothing left <br> for the enemy to take. <br> I will count the hours on <br> small Tibetan bells, <br> keep a cupboard with tea and rice; <br> I will keep fresh fruit on the <br> breakfast table<br> <br> and watch the morning light wash through <br> my home unobstructed. <br> I will walk a simple path, <br> unadorned except by <br> life’s own sweet grace. </em></p>
<p><br>Poetry has changed my life--- maybe it's had (will have?) that effect on you! Consider taking the time to read (or write!) a poem today. Give your imagination full reign and see where it wants to go. If you do, please feel free to share it here in the comment section. </p>
<p>Click below to hear me read today's poem and I hope it inspires you as it continues to inspire me.</p>
<p>See you tomorrow!</p>2:48Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/65989212021-04-09T07:57:37-07:002021-04-09T23:14:06-07:00APRIL 9 - POETRY AND DEEPLY FELT EXPERIENCE<p>Yesterday, I suggested that writing a poem can commemorate an experience such that you can return to it again and again. In fact, some deeply felt experiences are difficult, if not impossible, to describe in a language other than the image and metaphor- based language of poetry. <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/f2f4cb99f57bd092464d03f8b81ca006ef00e167/original/calendar-april-9-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>Today’s poem from “Raised in the Shadow,” attempts to speak that language in order to commemorate an experience that I’m guessing many of you have also had. I’m talking about that instant when you suddenly and spontaneously drop out of time into the limitless glory of the present moment, a moment when everything comes alive and all time-bound worldly concerns fall away. </p>
<p>Enjoy poem #3 in our celebration of National Poetry Month! </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p><em> In the Present, Suddenly </em></p>
<p><em> Your head is cradled in <br> the crook of my arm, <br> your deep, slow breathing soft <br> against the drip of the rain. </em></p>
<p><em> Outside, the sound of a car <br> on the wet pavement <br> propels me into the moment: <br> A white doorframe stands suddenly <br> against the ochre wall. <br> Sounds are detached, smaller. </em></p>
<p><em> You stretch across the pillow, <br> your back arched cat-like. <br> I want only to remain here, <br> moving in cognizance <br> through this eternal moment. <br> But I know the truth of it all too well: </em></p>
<p><em> Soon, I will be swept back <br> into the rapids of the clock, <br> This landscape of simple pleasure, <br> this delight of detail <br> will again rush by, <br> blurred and peripheral. </em></p>
<p><em> Yet, this morning, <br> this moment, <br> now, <br> I am here. <br> You are here <br> and God is everywhere: <br> in the lampshade <br> and in the worn, brown carpet. </em></p>
<p>Poetry has changed my life--- maybe it has had (will have?) that effect on you! Consider taking the time to read a few poems every day. It’s a sure-fire antidote to the new 60-second TikTok mentality. </p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read today's poem and I hope it inspires you find another poem or two to sprinkle into your day. </strong></p>
<p>See you tomorrow!</p>1:42Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/65983042021-04-08T14:25:53-07:002021-04-10T13:44:01-07:00April 8 - Found in a Poem<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/f732120bae2dacad4f99b905b8f75ef83cba6f56/original/april-8-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p>Celebrating National Poetry Month.</p>
<p>William Carlos Williams said: </p>
<p> “It is difficult <br> to get the news from poems <br> yet men die miserably every day <br> for lack <br> of what is found there.” </p>
<p>What can be found in a poem? Mary Oliver’s poems can teach an appreciation of nature. Billy Collins can make us laugh. Theodore Roethke can provide a map for the difficult, inner journey. Denise Levertov can help us negotiate the difficulties of problematic families. </p>
<p>In my experience, a poem can also serve as a reminder, an incantation against procrastination for example. A poem can act as a shield against the use of mundane tasks to avoid more important, but difficult work. Today’s poem, written 24 years ago, continues to serve that function for me. </p>
<p>Have you read or written a poem in your life that has served you over time, one you return to as an important reminder? </p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Today </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>I’m not going to wash dishes today, <br>I’m not going to sweep or dust <br>or pick up after the children. <br>Today I am going to attend to other matters, <br>matters far more dusty and neglected. </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>I’m not going to run errands, <br>I’m not going to pay bills, go to the bank, <br>or balance the checkbook. <br>Today, I’m going to attend to other matters, <br>matters far more out of balance. </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>I am not going to answer the phone today, <br>turn on the TV, or listen to the radio. <br>Today, I am going to listen to smaller sounds, <br>those that call softly from beneath the <br>murky, dark surface of this daily drudgery. </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Today I am going to do the other work, <br>the truly important work. <br>Today, I will stand against those forces <br>that conspire to condemn me to routine <br>and I will not yield. </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>This time, they will have to wait <br>until tomorrow.</em></p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read the poem "Today."</strong></p>
<p>See you tomorrow!</p>1:14Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/65976082021-04-07T20:32:19-07:002022-05-30T02:49:30-07:00April, she's still here, and so is your poem #2!<p>Welcome to Day 2 of posting a poem a day from “Raised in the Shadow” in honor of National Poetry Month! As always, you can scroll to the bottom of this post to hear me read you today's poem.<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/cbb431f9932edce89266d2dadc7f687664dc2a0a/original/todays-poem-april-7-jpg.jpg/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.jpg" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" /></p>
<p> Thanks so much to all of you who responded with likes and comments to yesterday’s post and encouraged me to continue. There's so much about poetry and writing in general that I find fascinating and inspiring. I have a particular attraction to great sentences. Yes, great sentences. In fact, I collect them. Yup. Like butterflies. Every once in a blue moon I run across a sentence so well constructed, so rich in form and content, that I pin it into my “Sentences I Have Loved” notebook. </p>
<p>The poet Jane Hirshfield takes top honor in my little book of sentences with my all-time favorite. It is the first sentence in the first essay in her collection, “9 Gates – Entering the Mind of Poetry:” </p>
<p><em>“Every good poem begins in language awake to its own connections – language that hears itself and what is around it, sees itself and what is around it, looks back at those who look into its gaze and knows more perhaps even than we do about who and what we are.” </em></p>
<p>I was so taken with this sentence that I decided I wanted to diagram it, so, autodidact that I am, I found a great on-line site, bought a few books and learned. It took six months to crack that sentence. Fellow grammar nerds: Email or DM me if you want to see the diagram! </p>
<p>Yesterday’s poem came from a memory of my father. This one I wrote for my sister, Frankie, who died in 2014. It’s not a happy poem, but it’s accurate. I read recently that the artist should never avert their eyes, never look away. <strong>Note:</strong> <strong>You can scroll to the bottom of this post to hear me read you today' poem.</strong></p>
<p> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>To Frances</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>You lived in her house <br> long after most daughters have left <br>to make lives of their own, <br><br>but you could not make it<br> on your own, you could not <img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/49db05b67516f971d9918d131853450b80b9c84a/original/frankie-alphad-copy.png/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsInNtYWxsIl1d.png" class="size_s justify_right border_none" alt="" /> <br> take care of yourself.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em> You were sick. <br> You needed her. <br> You believed that and from that </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em> she spun the web <br> that held you all those dark years. <br> The time came when your rage </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em> saved you. You pulled <br> that dagger from your breast and severed <br> every tie cleanly, finally. </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em> You and I haven’t spoken <br> in years. I tell people you are estranged <br> from the family. When asked, </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em> you tell people you have no family, <br>they are dead. And <br>I suppose we are. </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Mother called last night. <br>She wondered aloud <br>where you were. </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>“I just want to know she’s alright.” <br>And in our old mother’s sweet voice <br>I heard a rumbling, </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>deep and terrifying, <br>and all I could think of <br>was to call out to you </em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>wherever you are: Run! <br>Run as fast as you can and <br>don’t look back.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p>I recently read somewhere that an artist never averts their eyes, never looks away, and this poem, though dark, is, as I said, accurate. But there's also so much in this wide world to see and translate into verse that's full of beauty and joy and I'll be sharing those with you this month as well. It's as Jane Hirshfield says, sometimes poetry "knows more perhaps even than we do about who and what we are.” </p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read today's poem and maybe try thinking of your life today as a poem - something inspired and full of unexpected insight.</strong></p>
<p>See you tomorrow!</p>1:43Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/65956952021-04-06T13:15:45-07:002023-06-25T20:54:18-07:00"April, she will come": National Poetry Month<h4>
<span class="font_small"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/60d89eb952cec99141fde6c0686bf6373d77208a/original/blog-header-image.png/!!/undefined/b:W1sic2l6ZSIsIm1lZGl1bSJdXQ==.png" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" /></span>April is National Poetry Month!</h4>
<p>Poetry has the power to open you up and suspend time, elevate you. It opens the door into the moment. It's too long a story to tell here, but suffice it to say that my life profoundly changed in 1997, and it was the poetry of Yeats, Rilke, Mary Oliver and David Whyte that provided me with an emotional path forward. </p>
<p>I'll be posting one poem every day here from "Raised In The Shadow", the book I wrote in Nashville when I put down my songwriting pen and picked up my carpenter's tool belt again; when writing a collection of poems felt not just important, but necessary.</p>
<p>It took a year and it wasn't until it was finished and I saw it in print that I understood I'd written an autobiography in 25 poems. <strong>Note: You can scroll to the bottom of this post to hear me read you the poem of the day.</strong></p>
<p>To those who asked why he spent so much time re-writing his poems, Yeats wrote:</p>
<p> <em>"The friends that have it I do wrong<br> Whenever I remake a song<br> Should know what issue is at stake<br> It is myself I remake."</em><br> </p>
<p>A good poem is a lightning bolt that comes at you at an unfamiliar angle (Emily Dickinson said to <em>"Tell the truth, but tell it slant.</em>") and suddenly you see something in an entirely different way, understand something that, in retrospect, seemed obvious, but you'd never understood it in quite that way before. It thrills me to know that it was often in the act of writing the poem that the poet is gifted with that sudden insight and often doesn't recognize it him/herself until reading the finished work!</p>
<p>Happy National Poetry Month my friends and on to today's offering. Father's Day is next month, so why don't I start with one about mine. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em><strong>I-40</strong></em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>Once, as a young boy driving home with dad<br>in his old green work van, he sighed:<br>"You know son, sometimes I feel like<br>I want to just keep driving."</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>It was many years before I understood<br>his meaning: how job and family can<br>imprison a man behind the bars of <br>someone else's expectations.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>A few hard highway miles of my own<br>behind me, I found myself mouthing<br>those words to my 10-year-old son.<br>In that moment, it felt like</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>the ends of a circle were joined,<br>a circle with an ancient circumference<br>on which each of us finds their place.</em></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><em>For me, it happened in a '77 Silverado<br>on a long stretch of I-40<br>headed west, into the sun.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> Poetry has changed my life--- maybe it has had (will have?) that effect on you! Consider this: taking the time to read a few poems is a sure-fire antidote to the new 60-second TikTok mentality. </p>
<p><strong>Click below to hear me read today's poem and I hope it inspires you find another poem or two to sprinkle into your day.</strong></p>
<p>See you tomorrow!</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>1:18Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/42938142016-07-25T16:02:28-07:002021-01-22T01:43:29-08:00The Restless Desire to Make Art<p><span class="font_large"><span style="color:#2F4F4F;"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/9a597171868eec47f1b62d3e6984c91041a0b61e/small/louise-gluck.jpg?1469488031" class="size_s justify_left border_" /></span></span></p>
<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="font_large"><span style="color:#2F4F4F;"><span class="font_small">Monday, July 25<br>Joshua Tree</span></span></span></div>
<p><br><span class="font_large"><span style="color:#2F4F4F;">Hello friends,<br><br>Last night I started reading Louise Glück's "Proofs and Theories - Essays on Poetry." Of the many books we own of writers writing about writing, "Proofs and Theories," a collection of her short essays and talks, is fast becoming one of my favorites. Most of you know the character of my songwriting and poetry and are creative spirits yourselves, so you will know immediately why I was compelled to share this with you. Seeing evidence of the universality of the difficulties that beset those of us attempting to live a creative life always provides a glimmer of light in the dark, chaotic center of my self doubt. I can only imagine that some version of this may be true for you, too, and you may take some measure of comfort in the sure knowledge that you are not alone.</span></span></p>
<p><span class="font_large"><span style="color:#2F4F4F;">May your muse be kind and generous,</span></span></p>
<p><span class="font_large"><span style="color:#2F4F4F;">Coming to you live from Coyote Gulch Studios, high in the magical Mojave,<br>Phillip<br>www.ragsandbonesmusic.com</span></span><br><br><br><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/0246d3e77c7193425dba5332b013996e2d6347a3/large/louise-gluck-quote.jpg?1469497529" class="size_xl justify_center border_" /></p>Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/40103172016-01-27T09:12:13-08:002022-03-10T22:54:11-08:00RABBIT HOLES<p>Dear Friends, <br> <br>In March of 2012, I wrote a song called “Rabbit Holes” because I’m interested in the perennial questions we can’t seem to answer: How did the universe begin, what’s it made of, is there a God? I find myself amused at our journey through the millennia in search of the answers to these persistent existential questions and I find that I am particularly interested in the turn this query took about 500 years ago with the advent of the scientific method. <br> <br>I guess all of this was kicked off in my mind by the discovery of the Higgs-Boson, which some scientists call “The God Particle.” We’ve split the atom; we’ve split the split-up parts of the atom. We’ve tossed these teeny little particles around big old centrifuges at a gazillion miles/hour and slammed them into each other really hard so we could see what happens. No doubt about it, we’re a curious bunch. We want, or maybe need, to understand the nature and the mechanisms of life and the universe. The search for the Higgs-Boson, the existence of which was postulated by Dr. Peter Higgs 40 years ago, is the latest effort to explain what ‘reality’ really is. It postulates a ‘field’ that permeates the entire universe that can appear as a particle briefly, very briefly, as detritus produced by a high-energy collision between sub-atomic particles in a particle accelerator. <br> <br>I seem to remember from high school science class that at one time scientists were absolutely sure the atom was indivisible. Then they found the electrons, protons and neutrons. Surely they were indivisible! Wrong. So here’s my first question: is this a problem of infinite regression? Is there no end to how small you can slice and dice these little guys? <br> <br>And I have other questions: Is it possible that we are biologically/psychically limited in such a way that we are incapable of grasping certain things about the nature of the universe? In other words, is it outside our ability to comprehend? Do we exist inside a ‘box’ such that what is outside of it will always, by its nature and by ours, remain incomprehensible to us? I wanted to try and write about this and the song “Rabbit Holes” was the result. <br> <br>When I had a version of the song I could call “complete”, I thought the verses were good but couldn’t get right with the chorus and, since the chorus usually houses the central idea of a song, maybe that meant I didn’t really know what the heck I was trying to say. After all, stuffing a big, multifaceted idea like this into a 3 minute song is tricky and you have to be clear where your focus is. I played Rabbit Holes for our Hi-Dez community mythologist, Dr. C. She didn’t like the chorus even more than I didn’t like it. Sometime later, and without mentioning “Rabbit Holes”, Dr. C suggested I read “Passion of the Western Mind” by Richard Tarnas and loaned me her copy. She’s sly, that one! <br> <br>The book is too dense with meaningful material to skim and it took me the entirety of 2015 to read. I’m currently reading it again to see if I can dig in a little deeper. In the meantime, as a result of this immersion, I got clear on what I was trying to communicate, was finally able to rewrite the chorus to “Rabbit Holes” and am now happy to report that it will be the title cut on my next 3-song EP, due out on Coyote Gulch Records in February. Wahoo! <br> <br>How the universe came into being is a problem not unlike the “paradox of infinite regression” I mentioned earlier. Stephen Hawking in “A Brief History of Time” tells this version of an old story that illustrates the problem: <br> <br>“A well-known scientist (some say it was Bertrand Russell) once gave a public lecture on astronomy. He described how the earth orbits around the sun and how the sun, in turn, orbits around the center of a vast collection of stars called our galaxy. At the end of the lecture, a little old lady at the back of the room got up and said: "What you have told us is rubbish. The world is really a flat plate supported on the back of a giant tortoise." The scientist gave a superior smile before replying, "What is the tortoise standing on?" "You're very clever, young man, very clever," said the old lady. "But it's turtles all the way down!" <br> <br>I mention that story because the punch line shows up in “Rabbit Holes”. Funny though it is, it accurately highlights the contrast between the ancient, pre-scientific ideas about creation and the modern view. It also reminds us how long we’ve been postulating answers to the same set of foundational questions. <br> <br>There’s also a line in the song that says: <br> <br> “Every time you cut a slice from the mystery of life/your gonna have to find a little sharper knife.” <br> <br>I think it’s hilarious that we have to keep building bigger and bigger machines in order to find smaller and smaller particles. The Large Hadron Collider near Geneva, Switzerland is 17 miles in circumference! <br> <br>I’d love to hear your thoughts, so please comment here on the blog and/or email me at phillip@ragsandbonesmusic.com. and I’ll be sure to let you know when “Rabbit Holes” is up on Bandcamp. <br> <br>from Coyote Gulch Studios, high in the magical Mohave, <br>Rags <br> <br>p.s. If you’re interested in a fabulous survey of Western philosophical thought from Socrates to the post-modern, you can find “Passion of the Western Mind” <a contents="here" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Passion-Western-Mind-Understanding/dp/0345368096" target="_blank">here</a>. Highly recommended.</p>Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/39697562016-01-04T00:11:31-08:002021-01-02T13:10:53-08:00DOING THE MATH<p>I'm happy to announce that this week Amazon rates "Raised in the Shadow", my life in 25 poems, as #607,825 on their best-seller list. Last week it was rated #3,225,478. For those of you who don't have a pencil and paper handy, that's a jump of 2,617,653 places. Wow! How DO they figure these things? I have no clue, and, after some google-sleuthing, I have come to the conclusion that neither does anyone else. </p>
<p>By the way, this collection of 25 poems, written over the course of the year I turned 50, is only12 bucks which, again for those of you not sitting in front of paper and pencil, comes out to only 48 cents per poem. Can you believe it? Only 48 cents!! So, here's a sample of what 48 cents will get you these days: <br> </p>
<p>THE ARCHERS </p>
<p>They are moving quietly <br>through the shadows, <br>barely below the threshold of my discomfort </p>
<p>They are whispering my name, <br>the one I forgot. </p>
<p>They are tugging, insistent, forcerful, <br>their firm, dark hands <br>on the blades of my shoulder, <br>turning me first this way, then that </p>
<p>Like an arrow, they aim me <br>with tender merciless love. <br>directly toward the center of my fear, <br>their exquisite accuracy measured <br>unerringly by the windsock of my resistance </p>
<p>It is an oddly practical dynamic: <br>The harder I struggle, the clearer their target. </p>
<p> -(c) p.n. rosenberg <br> <br> <br>If you don't already have a copy of RITS, you can help me move north on that ol' Amazon Best Seller list and have a little poetry with your coffee in the mornings to boot! Go to <a contents="Amazon&nbsp;" data-link-label="" data-link-type="url" href="http://amzn.to/1YUQ5qZ" target="_blank">Amazon </a>and order up a copy. Free shipping with an order over $35, so you can order 3 and enrich two poet-poor friends. Oh, the good deeds abound! </p>
<p>Here's to a New Year, may it be filled with poetry and song! </p>
<p>From Coyote Gulch Studios, high in the wild mojave, <br>Phillip</p>Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/31898182014-09-16T13:46:31-07:002023-12-10T09:25:59-08:00Rags and Bones to perform at California Leonard Cohen Tributes<div>
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/3a6c13a98efe0611e038a1d37503f834630f0d31/medium/9-21-14-leonard-cohen-tribute-flier.png?1410894295" class="size_m justify_right border_none" alt="" style="font-size: 11.8182px;" /><br><strong><em>"If I knew where the good songs came from, I'd go there more often. It's a mysterious condition. It's much like the life of a Catholic nun. You're married to a mystery." <br> </em></strong> -Leonard Cohen<br><br><br><br><span style="color:#2F4F4F;"><strong>September 21</strong></span> is Leonard Cohen's birthday. He will be 80. I am thrilled and honored to be playing at two tribute shows this month. This Sunday I'll be at SOhO in Santa Barbara at 7:30 pm along with a fine group of my fellow singer-songwriters.<br><br>Each of us will perform two of his songs. I have chosen The Traitor and In My Secret Life, two songs which have a great deal of personal meaning for me.</div><br><br><br><br><br> <div style="text-align: right;">
<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/673940316540d6d56c7d3befba55a362e160f39a/medium/9-27-14-leonard-cohen-tribute-flier.png?1410894319" class="size_m justify_left border_none" alt="" /><br><br><br><br><br><br>On <span style="color:#2F4F4F;"><strong>September 27</strong></span>, I'll be performing at the Leonard Cohen tribute in San Luis Obispo. This will be at the 7:30 pm. at the Steynberg Gallery. Many thanks to Steve Key and SONGWRITERS AT PLAY for organizing both of these important events!<br><br><br><br><br><br><br> <div>
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<br><em><span class="font_large"><strong>AND...</strong></span></em>On <span style="color:#2F4F4F;"><strong>September 28</strong> </span>at 1pm I'll be sharing a stage with Cynthia Lin and the Blue Moon All Stars along with other special guests to perform original material at the Sculpterra Winery. 5015 Linne Rd., Paso Robles, CA 93446. 805-226-8881 [<a href="https://maps.google.com/maps?q=5015+Linne+Rd.%2CPaso+Robles%2CCA%2C93446%2C" target="_blank">map</a>]. This is a free show.<br> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: right; font-size: 12px;">HOPE TO SEE YOU AT ONE OF THE SHOWS!</span></div>
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</div>Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/30458702014-06-28T07:48:32-07:002022-02-03T05:05:24-08:00Jerry Jeff, Todd Snyder and Jerome Lawrence<p><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px;">“They say a neurotic is a man who builds a castle in the air. A psychotic is the man who lives in it. And a psychiatrist is the man who collects the rent.” – </span><a data-mce-href="http://www.biography.com/people/jerome-lawrence-246009" href="http://www.biography.com/people/jerome-lawrence-246009" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px;" target="_self" title="Jerome Lawrence">Jerome Lawrence</a></p>
<p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px;">I would add that a writer is the one who can no longer afford the rent. Know what I mean? Therapy gets pretty expensive and they can’t fix the broken parts anyway. Might as well write about it. One way or another you end up finding it in your songs or your novel, or your journal. Stuff you didn’t mean to be writing about but, shit, there it is again: old irresolvable, foundational themes, the ones that go way down deep and define you, the ones you can’t change and so you have to learn to accept them as your particular form of insanity (hint: best to call it "quirky" when talking about your friends’ particular form of insanity). Maybe writing won’t fix the broken parts either, but it does offer an avenue of acceptance and, if you're willing to see it, even a little humor.</p>
<p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px;">And this: How cool it is to see <a data-mce-href="http://www.jerryjeff.com/" href="http://www.jerryjeff.com/" target="_self" title="Jerry Jeff Walker">Jerry Jeff</a> get his props from the younger dudes and dudettes. Thanks to <a data-mce-href="http://www.toddsnider.net/home.cfm" href="http://www.toddsnider.net/home.cfm" target="_self" title="Todd Snider">Todd Snider</a>, Jason Isbell and <a data-mce-href="http://amandashires.squarespace.com/" href="http://amandashires.squarespace.com/" target="_self" title="Amanda Shires">Amanda Shires</a>.<br><iframe data-mce-src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5QdWpab_kFg?feature=oembed" frameborder="0" height="281" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5QdWpab_kFg?feature=oembed" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" width="500"></iframe><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 14px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span></p>Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/29930662014-06-11T10:03:06-07:002023-12-10T09:02:31-08:00Some Thoughts on Father's DaySunday, June 15 is Father's Day. My father died in 2007 at the age of 94. I was both saddened and relieved. Saddened to see him go and relieved to be released from the weight of his presence. Even though he was a kind man, I always felt even late into my life that there was a shadow over me that I could not get out from under until after he was gone. My relationship with him has improved since his death. I have found the compassion and love for him I somehow could not locate until now. I can't say that I understand why this is true, but I don't know anyone whose relationship with their father, living or dead, is not complex and conflicted.<br><br>I've heard it said that there are two kinds of fathers: Cronus who eats his children and Helios, the absentee father in the sky. I have found it useful to think about which kind my father was, at least primarily. Which kind of father was yours? It may be fruitful to ponder this question for yourself.<br><br>When I wrote <a contents='"Raised in the Shadow"' data-link-label="Poetry" data-link-type="page" href="/poetry">"Raised in the Shadow"</a>, I included two 'father poems'. "My Father's World" and "Advice to a Father." Here is one of the 'father poems' from <a contents='"Raised in the Shadow"' data-link-label="Poetry" data-link-type="page" href="/poetry">"Raised in the Shadow"</a> :<a contents="" data-link-label="Poetry" data-link-type="page" href="/poetry"><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/44528/89fb95af7e608b6c3d875568e3ea75a6a6d15f3d/medium/RITS-Cover.jpg?1361664382" class="size_m justify_right border_" /></a>
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<br><span class="font_regular"><strong>"My Father's World"</strong></span><br> </div>
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<div><span class="font_regular">They came in white laboratory coats<br>soldering under microscopes in dust-free rooms,<br>pushing my father’s world of blunt tools aside.<br class="Apple-interchange-newline">That world is fading slowly now into</span></div>
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<br><span class="font_regular"><span class="font_regular">the cracks of an old man’s memory.<br>It can barely be seen<br>through the dark glass. Look!<br>Do you see that ball-peen hammer?<br>the chisels laid out<br>evenly on the wooden bench?<br>They appear neolithic;<br>relics of another way of moving mountains.<br> <br>My father lives marginally<br>in this modern world.<br>After eighty-three years<br>he’s taken to preaching.<br>Eight or ten people gather<br>in someone’s living room<br>and listen to his account of dying<br>on the operating table.<br>They support him with love offerings.<br>Occasionally , he loses his place and<br clear="all">thinks he’s back in the shipyard<br>doing an important job;<br>the men in laboratory coats<br>remove him quickly and ask<br>him to not return.<br><br><span class="font_large">You can purchase a copy of "Raised in the Shadow" <a contents="here." data-link-label="Poetry" data-link-type="page" href="/poetry">here.</a></span><br> <iframe class="justify_inline" data-video-type="youtube" data-video-id="8lUPiRfXr_w" data-video-thumb-url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/8lUPiRfXr_w/0.jpg" type="text/html" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8lUPiRfXr_w?rel=0&wmode=transparent&enablejsapi=1" frameborder="0" height="200" width="320" allowfullscreen="true"></iframe><br> </span></span>
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="font_regular"><strong>Be sure to subscribe!</strong></span></div>
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</div>Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/29800282013-02-16T08:11:14-08:002021-06-23T02:16:44-07:00Tom Waits - Last Leaf on the Tree<p>And if I should live to be<br>The last leaf upon the tree<br>In the spring,<br>Let them smile, as I do now,<br>At the old forsaken bough<br>Where I cling. - <a href="http://www.eldritchpress.org/owh/llpix.html" target="_self" title="Oliver Wendell Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</a></p>
<p>I fight off the snow<br>I fight off the hail<br>Nothing makes me go<br>I’m like some vestigial tail - <a href="http://www.tomwaits.com/songs/song/371/Last_Leaf/" target="_self" title="Tom Waits Last Leaf on the Tree">Tom Waits</a></p>
<p>Hi kids,</p>
<p>Today's post is the last for now in this micro-mini-series featuring the elder statesmen of songwriting. Tom Waits hasn't hit his 70's yet, but we
<a class="asset-img-link" href="http://www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017c36e9c395970b-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="float: right;"><img src="//www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017c36e9c395970b-320wi" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="Tom-waits-reduced" style="margin: 0px 0px 5px 5px;" /></a><br>won't hold that against him. His voice, both literal and metaphorical would be sorely missed in our musical landscape had he decided on a career in, say, pharmaceuticals instead of songwriting. He, too, is addressing mortality in his songs. </p>
<p>The image of "the last leaf on the tree" is not a new one. The Oliver Wendell Holmes poem quoted above showed up in the Yale Book of American Verse in 1912. Writers are always re-working older archetypal/poetic images. I think its actually part of the job description. </p>
<p>I will mention also that anyone who can use the word 'vestigial' in a song gets bonus points. And by the way, the 2nd old-dude voice on this recording is Kieth Richards... </p>
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<p> <iframe frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3g51lUrbZlc?feature=oembed" width="459"></iframe> </p>
<p> If you receive this post via email, you can watch the video <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3g51lUrbZlc" target="_self" title="Tom waits">here</a>.</p>
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<a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=XhRGNRAh0H8:8VcFwHQp_JA:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=XhRGNRAh0H8:8VcFwHQp_JA:V_sGLiPBpWU"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?i=XhRGNRAh0H8:8VcFwHQp_JA:V_sGLiPBpWU" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=XhRGNRAh0H8:8VcFwHQp_JA:qj6IDK7rITs"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?d=qj6IDK7rITs" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>
</div><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ragsandbones/~4/XhRGNRAh0H8" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="1" width="1" />Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/29800292013-02-15T17:36:09-08:002021-09-16T22:24:54-07:00Leonard Cohen - Old Ideas<p>Hi Kids,</p>
<p>Old Ideas. Don't you love it? What beautiful ambiguity. Old ideas as in those that have been around for a while and old ideas as in those of an old man.
<a class="asset-img-link" href="http://www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017d4116470a970c-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="float: right;"><img src="//www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017d4116470a970c-320wi" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="Imgres-2" style="margin: 0px 0px 5px 5px;" /></a></p>
<p>Here is another septeguenarian in our series on the elder statesmen of songwriting, At 77, Leonard is still hard at it, writing songs and touring. Fully employed as he likes to say. Like our other living legends his current work deals in part with mortality.</p>
<p>He begins, "I want to speak to Leonard/ He's a sportsman and a shepherd/ He's a lazy bastard living in a suit..." Here is God asking to speak with one of his prophets. </p>
<p>Here is a live performance of his song "Going Home" recorded in Dublin:</p>
<p><iframe frameborder="0" height="281" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qKrbOYa2NQA?feature=oembed" width="500"></iframe> </p>
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<p>If you receive this post via email, you can watch the video at <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKrbOYa2NQA" target="_self" title="Going Home">Leonard Cohen</a>.</p><div class="feedflare">
<a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=BgmgmJapx2A:piToqgaQZk4:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=BgmgmJapx2A:piToqgaQZk4:V_sGLiPBpWU"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?i=BgmgmJapx2A:piToqgaQZk4:V_sGLiPBpWU" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=BgmgmJapx2A:piToqgaQZk4:qj6IDK7rITs"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?d=qj6IDK7rITs" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>
</div><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ragsandbones/~4/BgmgmJapx2A" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="1" width="1" />Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/29800302013-02-14T07:47:19-08:002021-01-22T06:02:01-08:00Guy Clark - "The Cape"<p><em>“When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not."</em> - Mark Twain</p>
<p>Hi Kids,</p>
<p>I hope you're enjoying checking out some of the elder statesmen of songwriting. We visited <a href="http://www.johnprine.net/" target="_self">John Prine</a> yesterday. How about today we go just down the block a ways and see what's up with <a href="http://www.myspace.com/guyclarkofficial" target="_self">Guy Clark</a>.
<a class="asset-img-link" href="http://www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017ee87ff665970d-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="float: right;"><img src="//www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017ee87ff665970d-320wi" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="Guy_Clark_Essential" style="margin: 0px 0px 5px 5px;" /></a>Guy has been writing and performing since he was a pup and, like most of the others I'm sending your way in this short series, is still going strong in his '70's. His songs continue to be meticulously crafted, seasoned with a generous helping of soulful wisdom and served up hot with a dollop of humor. </p>
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<p><iframe frameborder="0" height="281" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/T6bZ37nexSY?feature=oembed" width="500"></iframe> </p>
<p>If you receive this post via email you can watch the video at <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6bZ37nexSY" target="_self">Guy Clark, "The Cape"</a></p><div class="feedflare">
<a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=ldBGAsfJw_o:yCwALesFE70:yIl2AUoC8zA"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=ldBGAsfJw_o:yCwALesFE70:V_sGLiPBpWU"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?i=ldBGAsfJw_o:yCwALesFE70:V_sGLiPBpWU" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?a=ldBGAsfJw_o:yCwALesFE70:qj6IDK7rITs"><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/ragsandbones?d=qj6IDK7rITs" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" /></a>
</div><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ragsandbones/~4/ldBGAsfJw_o" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="1" width="1" />Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/29800312013-02-13T08:18:50-08:002022-05-10T00:52:14-07:00John Prine - Hello in There<p>“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7715.Robert_Frost">Robert Frost</a></p>
<p>I'm continuing this morning with a short series of posts that feature our elder poet/philosopher/songwriter folks. It is a prestigious chorus that includes Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Kris Kristofferson, <a href="http://www.johnprine.net/" target="_self" title="John Prine">John Prine</a>, and Guy Clark. </p>
<p><a class="asset-img-link" href="http://www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017ee8775c77970d-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="float: right;"><img src="//www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017ee8775c77970d-320wi" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="Url-2" style="margin: 0px 0px 5px 5px;" /></a></p>
<p>Today, I'm thinking about John Prine. In today's video, he sings: "You know that old trees just grow stronger and old rivers grow wilder every day/ Old people just grow lonesome waiting for someone to say: 'Hello in there. Hello'". The song is both a lament and an instruction. </p>
<p>(Alert: I'm going to climb up on my soapbox for about one nanosecond). It sucks big time that we live in an upside down culture that turns pre-teens into sex objects and fails to honor the wisdom and gifts of those among us who have crashed or crawled through all the crazy shit this world can throw at you and lived to tell the tale. Thankfully, these songwriters are telling the tale. </p>
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<p><iframe frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FJ85Hep0kD0?feature=oembed" width="459"></iframe> </p>
<p>If you received this post via email you can view the video<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJ85Hep0kD0" target="_self" title="John Prine"> here</a>.</p><div class="feedflare">
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</div><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ragsandbones/~4/1EUCNMyzgJg" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="1" width="1" />Rags Rosenbergtag:ragsandbonesmusic.com,2005:Post/29800322013-02-12T07:34:34-08:002022-05-11T09:52:03-07:00Wide Awake and Feeling Mortal<p>Hi Kids,</p>
<p>There are a few older performing songwriters on whose shoulders we all stand: Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, <a href="http://www.kriskristofferson.com/" target="_self" title="Kristofferson Home Page">Kris Kristofferson</a>, John Prine, and Guy Clark to name a few of my faves. Most of these guys are in or close to their '70's and are still writing and touring. Some are still drinking good whiskey. <a class="asset-img-link" href="http://www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017ee86d59a3970d-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="float: right;"><img src="//www.philliprosenberg.com/.a/6a0133f2f23d25970b017ee86d59a3970d-320wi" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" alt="Kris-Kristofferson-006" style="margin: 0px 0px 5px 5px;" /></a>Some have written songs that deal with their increasing sense of mortality so, being an old mortal myself, I am listening with great interests to what these poet/philosophers/songwriters have to say on the subject. I figured for the next few posts I'd share a bit of what I've found. There's a sober humor in their songs I think you'll appreciate. Let's start with Kris Kristofferson who finds himself quite a few miles down the road from those windshield wipers slappin' time...</p>
<p>He starts with: "Wide awake and feeling mortal/At this moment in the dream/That old man there in the mirror/And my shaky self-esteem".</p>
<p><iframe frameborder="0" height="281" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UO_lybzHWP4?feature=oembed" width="500"></iframe> </p>
<p>If you receive this post in an email, you can view the video <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=UO_lybzHWP4#!" target="_self" title="Kris Kristofferson">here</a>.</p>
<p><span style="font-size: 8pt;">Photo of the young Kris Kristofferson by Colin Mcrae.</span></p><div class="feedflare">
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</div><img src="//feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ragsandbones/~4/4MIVQE8GmyI" class="size_orig justify_inline border_" height="1" width="1" />Rags Rosenberg