There’s music in the sighing of a reed;
There’s music in the gushing of a rill;
There’s music in all things, if men had ears:
Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.
~Lord Byron

Its New Orleans in the Spring, and I’m spend hours sitting trying to write an introduction that was suppose to be easy, but is far from being the two hour job I had initially thought it to be.

When every word is to be picked carefully, how are you suppose to introduce a short story collection? I’ve scoured the university library for research– wait, I’m listening to Pandora Radio and Aqualung just came on (He isn’t African American?!) I always thought he was a black jazz artist or something– back from the detour, I’m struggling. If anyone wants to suggest some thoughts, feel free to leave a comment.

Please leave feedback! I’m seeing people visit the site (over fifty hits on the first blog) but not a single comment! Its not hard, and pretty easy. No registration required, just put in a name.

My Cover Art/Photo contest is coming to a close, but there is still time to submit! Please email me a picture that embodies the poem: The Wraith of Lilies (The only poem being included in my book, currently set to the first entry!) I’ll post it at the bottom of this blog once more.

Finally, the album The People that Come and Go by MYNAMEISJOHNMICHAEL (Not to be confused with John or Michael) is being released on Saturday here in New Orleans. These are a great core of guys who have an amazing story– Musicians that embraced a project to produce 52 songs in 2008, one per week– finally compiled the best they had to offer in a CD. Check out their daily updated blog:

If you’re in a New Orleans on March 28th, to be a no-show here would mean you’re missing out on the very beat that keeps the shared heart of New Orleans beating. Between MNIJM and the Leo DeJesus, the Lion of New Orleans, I’ve never been more inspired by live music. If you’re unfortunate to be out of town– let me know! I’ll be sure to attend, and grab you CD. Just leave me an address in the comment box.




 The Wraith of Lilies

On steps of stone,
These thoughts I garnered
Left me quiet, wishing well.
The garden bloomed—
Jealous metaphor;
Into flowered tide, I sail.
But as I pricked
My thumb— oh, crowned rose!
I met the Wraith of Lilies.

Conviction spoke
In her painted eyes;
With hushed tones and such, she warned:
“Boy of youth, do listen close!
Beware the thorn
Of the rash red beauty.
We chase stars that should be ours,
And wake to leave the Lilies.
The purple petals,”
Softly pursed her lips,
“Play beneath the pause of Sun—
Yet plead for your attention.

The love-thorn bush,
You lie sprawled beneath,
With care you trace soft petals;
Pretense with Love,
A gift is false! The
Color hued with broken hearts;
The shade of
Adored strawberry fruit
We love— only in season.”

The Wraith’s sad smile,
Those defeated eyes;
I dropped the rose, wandered on
The garden seemed much larger
Now, to this day,
Still I pass the rose—
And I always watch the lilies.
Lesson learned; when I find Her,
We’ll play beneath
The day’s pause of Sun.
“Just as well,” the Wraith would grin,
“Hand her a Chrysanthemum.”