Port Aux Basques

              PORT AUX BASQUES
NARRATIVE DOUBLE CONCEPT ALBUM
POETRY COLLECTION
Written by Payton Gosse 2
Abstract
My creative writing project, Port Aux Basques, is about using song-writing forms to create a poetry collection. It serves to break the divide between poetry and songs, as poets currently consider songs to be outside of the poetry realm. I grew increasingly interested in this concept due to American culture valuing music more than poetry and poets discrediting song lyrics as being poetry, to which I argue that A) if lyrics are poetic, why aren’t they considered poetry, and B) if Americans enjoy music, why is it so wrong for songs to be considered poems? In writing my narrator as a troubadour, I invoke the idea that the poems are meant to be sung and that a story is meant to be told. The collection uses a narrative to follow the path of friends putting their lives on the line for each other, in hope of living a conventional life where love isn’t jeopardized. It is divided into four parts to represent a double concept album. Therefore, each part is considered a side — 1A, 1B, 2A, and 2B — and is titled in relation to classical movements; Overture, Crescendo, Dimuendo, and Encore, respectively. The characters are to represent traditional and common Newfoundland speech, and the scenes are to represent Newfoundland bay life and town life; concepts that stem from my Newfoundland heritage. My main influences in writing these poems were Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run and Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks. The former was influential through understanding varying length in lyrics, rhymes, an ability to avoid clichés, and telling a story in each song. The latter was influential in putting words together that normally aren’t seen together and the use of repetition to create a heightening effect of what is spoken. While my most enduring obstacle is finding new original rhythms for each poem, I notice that strumming on a guitar and varying between chords helps me develop new rhythms. I hope to invoke interest in an audience that isn’t accustomed to poetry but is highly influenced by songs, proving that they can be one and the same. 3
Introduction
The inspiration for beginning my thesis adventure of mixing the two genres of poetry and song lyrics came from my musical background. As this thesis developed, I felt the need to find the right outlook for these two genres in relation to existing artistic conventions, respond to clichés, and accurately represent dialect. The resultant thesis contains poems that can be read as song lyrics; the music itself is contained in the words. While in conversation with narrative concept album conventions, each poem may be read separately from accompanying collection, but they are meant to be read in unison.
From experience in various college writing courses, reading poetry and books on poetic technique, I have begun orienting myself in the poetic world. Within the two years that I have first enrolled as an English Writing major — previously being a Studio Art major, which has since become my minor — I have learned how to write with a musicality and awareness of space. It’s much more difficult for me to be aware of a poem as a whole when it travels onto a second page. This comes from my Studio Art background. I have learned to judge and create an arrangement from being able to see the canvas as a whole. When the canvas is fragmented, my ability to effectively compose is lessened; relating to short stories, my ability to write a short story is far worse than my ability to write a poem due to this Studio Art habit.
Musicality in writing relates to prosody, rhythm, rhyme, meter, alliteration,
If a poem is written with attention to these elements of craft, then the words, lines, and stanzas will work in unison. In order to reach a level of musical awareness when composing, I needed help from external influences.
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My Philosophy While Writing, As It Relates to Music
“It’s not the note you play that’s the wrong note — it’s the note you play afterwards that makes it right or wrong. There’s no such thing as a wrong note.” — Miles Davis
This quote applies to improvising in music, otherwise known as soloing. While an instrumentalist, a trumpeter in Davis’s case and a guitarist in mine, might play a note that sounds odd (doesn’t fit within the present scale that such an instrumentalist is presently playing from), what matters is not that first note, but what note that instrumental plays to follow it. In respect to writing poetry, I normally take risks with what words I use. When I write an odd word, I usually do so with the intention of working with the words that come after to create a harmonious poem. The main difference between doing this in poetry versus music is that poetry allows the composer to go back and refine the notes. Although I began most of my poems with an overall idea of what the poem would be about, the words and meanings of words changed based on the overall narrative that extends beyond the individual poem. Therefore, refining was necessary to ensure clarity and unity in my collection.
My writing process started on paper and I kept writing despite the odd words that evidently became mistakes while writing. This allowed my own voice to come out instead of searching on the internet for every word to use and settling for a less natural voice. Although I did use rhymezone.com for help with finding effective rhymes, I only did so after taking the slow hand-writing process and getting to know exactly what my voice is and what I want to say.
In learning how to create music through words, I needed to develop a better understanding of certain elements of poetry. The first course I took at Viterbo University that assisted me with my 5
journey toward being a musical poet was English: Introduction to Creative Writing. In this class, I was given The Practice of Creative Writing: A Guide for Students, which between this textbook, class assignments, and lessons from Professor Elizabeth Marzoni, I learned how imagery, tension, pattern, insight, and revision are used and necessary when writing poetry.
Recently, my writing process required the computer to keep track of musical timing, in what I’ve come to call “rhythm templates.” The rhythm of the lines — produced through rhyme and meter — was proving to be difficult to reproduce in another line with different words. For example, the rhythm of one line needed to match that of a different line with the number of syllables, the placement of emphasis on certain syllables, and the placement of rhyme (both internal and end rhyme). The words on a computer allowed me to clearly see the words written, which when working from my “chicken-scratch” handwriting, clarity became an issue; I would often write half letters which were inconvenient when needing to see each individual syllable. When clearly seeing the words, the issue of rhythm was solved through
A) repeating the lines in my head,
B) repeating the lines out loud,
C) doing both A and B while strumming guitar— using the guitar helps me write on beat—
D) and writing the meter of the lines in a non-traditional format: a more rhythmic format.
I found that A, B, and C were necessary for writing in a natural way, but that D was necessary for writing with precision. I labeled this means of creating a rhythmic formatting technique “rhythm templates.” For example, u/u/u/u/u/ traditionally represents iambic pentameter, but I would write the meter in all numbers: each number would represent a word with its number of syllables, bolding numbers was used to remind me where rhyme was used, and italics was used 6
for alliteration. For example, 211312 might be a rhythm template that would assist me in replicating a rhythm.
Rhythm templates were necessary because of my need to format stanzas to fit the musical convention of verses. The rhythm of each line in a verse is conventionally copied for the purpose of using them in a succeeding verse. In poetic terms, this meant copying the rhythm of each line in one stanza to another, thereby putting those stanzas into conversation with musical conventions. Rhythm templates were less necessary in chorus stanzas because the lines are identically copied.
Song Forms
To keep with musical evolution, I attempted to write my collection with varying rhythm templates. This made the look and sound of each song different. The most successful way of ensuring that a song remains musical is to copy musical forms. While it may be easy to pick a random meter for each line and a random number of lines per stanza, this technique does not always work for producing a truly musical stanza. Musical forms, most notably the blues form, are accompanied with specific rhythms that automatically connects to a rhythm. The blues form contains strong emotion felt through repeating or close repetition of the first line in the second line; the third line finishes the emotion and the stanza. This use of repetition is linked to the blues form and automatically heightens the emotion in the poem. Instead of repeating this form in multiple poems, I tweaked its formula by using variations in repetition. One example is to keep the first line in each stanza stay the same: see “Lately, I’ve Been Thinkin’.” While I also used ballads, shanties, sonnets, etc., I didn’t want to box myself into their conventions and I always pushed for ways to break from writing them in their strictest sense; I wrote a sonnet, “Two 7
Weeks,” without conventional rhyme or precise iambic pentameter. In deciding on what rhythm templates to work from, I also had to understand the way in which the form it most resembles might serve a narrative function.
Narrative & Dialect
When exploring the ways that a poetry collection can be put into context with music while also create a unified whole, much like a concept album, I turned to two poetry collections. The first collection is Stranger Music: Selected Poems and Songs, written by Leonard Cohen who is both a poet and a songwriter. While this collection combines both poetry and song lyrics, what I disliked was that the narrative and/or culture of an individual poem or song lyric doesn’t necessarily connect to that in another poem or song lyric. Although poetry and songs were put into conversation with each other due to being under one cover, Cohen’s poems and song lyrics didn’t seem to have a strong unification. I then picked up Mary Dalton’s Merrybegot. Although she isn’t a songwriter, I noticed that her collection has a strong unification not between poems and song lyrics — as there aren’t any song forms in it — but in its narrative and cultural representation. Dalton’s poems have a narrative that can be read as flowing across the collection, and a culture that pertains specifically to Newfoundland, Canada. She uses phrases, syntax, grammatical markers and references that immerse the reader in Newfoundland’s culture. Not only was it important for me to understand how using narrative and culture can serve as a unifying “concept” to create an album, but it was also important for me to follow in Dalton’s footsteps and create a collection that revolves around Newfoundland.
Newfoundland is important to me because that was the province that my father was born in. I have spent one month, total, of my life in Newfoundland with my aunts, uncle, and cousins. 8
They helped immerse me in the culture through bringing me to wharfs, fishing, going to malls in St. John’s, and simply staying up until three a.m. watching movies and telling stories. From this limited experience, I noticed more about Newfoundland than any book can do justice on. Although I understood a lot about the varying dialects and fishing industry from traveling from coast to city, the main aspect that deserves attention is storytelling. Most Americans stereotype Canadians as being happy-go-lucky people that apologize for the most mundane mistakes. What’s wrong with this stereotype is that there are Americans that appear the same way, yet the few don’t account for the whole. It was impossible not to notice the struggles that my family was going through, both job and family ties, as told through stories and through the function of storytelling. Storytelling serves to share memories with others in hope of giving a snapshot of the feelings that the storytellers has to others. It is true that many stories dealt with serious issues, but there were also many stories that served to make the listeners and the teller forget about their current struggles in life. In this respect, I approached my collection with caution.
I wrote the narrative in Port Aux Basques with the intention of immersing its readers in Newfoundland culture so much so that they might forget about the struggles of their own lives. There will certainly be scenes in my poems that cause readers to step out from the narrative and reflect and apply the lines to their own lives, as is custom with reading narratives and stories. I do want my readers to reflect, but I also want them to simply experience. When there isn’t clarity, in both life and in poetry, it is important to focus on experiencing. Life and poetry are about taking the time to fully devote yourself and feel. Although my poetry collection is fictional, I had to do research for the purpose of doing justice to Newfoundland culture, and in turn, my heritage. 9
It’s important to recognize Newfoundland’s background in relation to my collection. Newfoundland, Canada is part of the greater province of Newfoundland and Labrador. Newfoundland is the island that reaches out from the eastern most part of North America whereas Labrador is part of mainland Canada. Port Aux Basques is a “20th century” port on the southwest coast that shipped goods by train across the island (“Roads for Rails”). While it began as the “only means of land transportation,” there was a problem with the tracks:
“The track was narrow gauge…rather than the standard gauge…of the Canadian railway system. Therefore, goods shipped by train had to be either moved to new freight cars in Port aux Basques or the cars had to have their wheels changed. Once loaded, it took longer to get the goods across the island, and the train could only deliver goods to stations and train yards. From there, freight had to be unloaded into trucks for final delivery.” (“Roads for Rails”)
Due to the inconvenience and cost of shipping, the Port Aux Basques train shipping industry got shut down. As people lost their jobs, I began the central narrative on my collection with a character that is victim of this inevitable circumstance. He is introduced as the only speaker in the poem, but there is another character that proves to be the source of tension in the narrative. This idea of having one or more speakers in a poem without instrumentation still relates to music.
Although instruments were available in Newfoundland when music began, they were not originally used to accompany singers. This was traditionally because the “tempo” of a song changes based on the “ornamentation” that a singer puts on the words (Stewart). Due to instruments restricting the non-tempo-ed singing rhythm to a specific tempo, the resultant “unsympathetic musical arrangements” alter the “meanings of the words” and “distort…the rhythm due to [this] thoughtless instrumental accompaniment (Stewart). This meant that through 10
absence of instruments, the attention was placed on the singers: one or multiple singers. This relates to poetry in that the attention is placed on the words.
Poetry may also use multiple speakers to create a conversation. I wrote poems in Port Aux Basques that range from one speaker to four speakers. When put into context with Newfoundland culture, the speakers can be seen as having differing dialects due to where they are from in Newfoundland. A speaker that is more secluded would be around the coast and have a bayman dialect, while a speaker that is more within the city social sphere would have a townie dialect; dialect is a combination of both accent and location.
To immediately break from any Newfoundland stereotypes and get my readers from putting my collection into conversation with such stereotypes, I introduced a key plot element early on that serves to build tension and contrast with the Canadian stereotype; I introduced my readers to the mob. I have no association with the mob and therefore I felt that, being the subject is it, I wouldn’t be able to accurately do justice to the mob lifestyle if seeing it from the inside out. In this respect, I decided to keep my perspective in a primary character, Lenny. Lenny doesn’t have relations with the mob other than that his friend, Lockjaw, works for the mob. In using Lenny’s perspective, I would avoid addressing issues of what a mobster might realistically think about in accordance to mob business. Instead, the speaker in my poems, whether Lenny or not, was that of someone who only tells the surface level of what is happening. I made this more believable when placing my collection into greater context of where this narrative comes from.
Port Aux Basques beings with a character titled, “The Troubadour.” A troubadour is someone who shares stories through song in hope that those stories will be passed on through word of mouth or song by others; this idea of storytelling relates back to Newfoundland storytelling tradition. In the first poem, “Songs That Heal,” the Troubadour is coming in to a bar after sailing 11
the rough seas. He meets this mysterious fellow who claims that the Troubadour doesn’t know what trouble is. After hearing the stories, the Troubadour is astonished at what he heard, jots them down as song lyrics, and compiles a collection that is intended to be sung to others. When conversing with poetic conventions, this idea of song lyrics compiled by a troubadour serves the purpose of stating that
A) the poems are meant to also be read as song lyrics and are therefore blending both poetry and music,
B) and the narrative collection is meant to be read alone or aloud, and then shared with others.
The Troubadour is briefly mentioned across the collection but is most apparent in the first and last poems. These two poems surround the center narrative and serve to end the center narrative and bring the reader back to the overarching idea of the Troubadour, as well as the introductory scene of Lenny and Lockjaw at the abandoned railroad tracks in “Rail.”
In relation to dialect and character, the character most closely associated with the mob were represented with a more bayman stylized dialect and those that aren’t were represented with a townie dialect. I made this decision because of how secluded the mob would be from the rest of society. This seclusion would most closely relate to being along the coast of Newfoundland rather than in the city. The coasts of Newfoundland involve the fishing industry which has preserved old speech patterns that came from Ireland, Scotland, and England. Therefore, Damian, Cindy, and Barricado would be represented with a bayman dialect and Lenny and Lockjaw would have a townie dialect; the idea that Lockjaw is working for the mob but doesn’t have a bayman dialect sends the signal that he doesn’t belong in the mob. The most notable difference between the bayman and the townie dialect is that the bayman dialect makes more 12
words plural than the townie dialect does. For example, someone who from around the bay might say, “I needs to go to the store,” rather than “I need to go to the store”: the latter more accurately reflects the townie dialect, or the midwestern dialect as Americans might know it as.
It must be noted that the dialects that I represent are mostly based off my father’s speech patterns, the speech patterns that followed over from him to me, and in the memories of how my relatives talk up in Newfoundland. I chose not to use YouTube for reference material because I wanted to make sure that I was preserving the conversational style of Newfoundlanders rather than corrupting my characters with the voices of people that change their voices for the camera; I did however use YouTube to briefly remind myself of the thick accent that comes with the bayman dialect. With both dialects, what I noticed is that people from Newfoundland have a natural musicality in their voices.
The way that a voice is naturally musical relates to prosody, an element of poetry that I learned about when taking English: History of the English Language with Professor Vickie Holtz-Wodzak. I have come to understand prosody as the way in which words flow out of the mouth. Certain syllables are pronounced in the front, middle, and back of the mouth, and are either vocalized or un-vocalize; the “o” in box in pronounced in the back of the mouth while the “e” in beat is pronounced in the front of the mouth; the “f” in fire isn’t vocalized — doesn’t require the use of vocal chords — while the “v” in vile is vocalized. If the words in a sentence continuously fluctuate forward and backward in the mouth, then the sentence will seem unnatural. This is because people, especially in Newfoundland, don’t naturally speak in the manner when holding a casual conversation. The reason this shift doesn’t happen is because many syllables, over the course of habituated speech, are dropped. In literary terms, this is 13
represented with eye dialect: writing words so that they visually appear and force the reader to speak with the intended dialect.
I wrote with the intention of copying the way that Newfoundlanders conversationally speak but found that due to the multiple aspects of Newfoundland tradition that come into conversation, I needed to incorporate traditional Newfoundland phrases and terms. I used The Dictionary of Newfoundland English to search for terms that were applicable to the situation and only used the terms if they were used appropriately and correctly.
I previously discussed how Newfoundland tradition relates to putting emphasis on the singers — the words — rather than instruments. On the other hand, instrumentals had also become part of Newfoundland heritage. Traditional Newfoundland instrumentals were played for “dances held in schools or community halls and in local clubs” (“Traditional Instrumental Music”). In my poetry collection, I included blank sheets of paper that are titled “Instrumental.” Although a reader might question how a page without words can be considered poetry, I must argue that poetry is about interpretation. Without culture context, a blank piece of paper in a poetry collection is read as a time lapse. When accompanied with cultural context, the strategically placed instrumentals serve as time lapses that are meant to be filled with joy and a gathering of people. Similarly, with breaking traditional poetic form conventions, I pushed the envelope for what is considered poetry because it is just as important for someone to read my collection with a poetic interpretation as it is to read with a musical interpretation.
My future intention for binding my collection also puts these poems in conversation with music. When I hand-bind my collection together — an art I learned from my Studio Art minor — the pages with be folded in half twice, length-wise. They will then be distressed through wrinkles and edge wear as if they have been kept in a person’s pocket for a long duration. The purpose of 14
doing this is to make the fictional aspect of the Troubadour taking the stranger’s stories and putting them into a collection seem more realistic. This element of realism relates back to immersing the reader into the collection, and thereby making the connection between poetry and song lyrics more prominent. Furthermore, I will bind the pages of the collection between a front and back cover, both twelve by twelve inches. The covers will be the size of a vinyl record sleeve and will further push my poetry collection into conversation with conventions of the music world.
Putting Port Aux Basques into Conversation with Strictly Musical Influences
The two main musical influences for writing Port Aux Basques were Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run album and Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks album. Born to Run was written with the intent of creating “one long endless summer night” (Springsteen). To create this feeling, Springsteen spent around one year revising songs in the studio. I revised lyrics until they were filled with concrete imagery, put its listener vividly into the moment, and using non-cliché metaphors that add rather than detract in this respect. The phrases he used had a grit and spunk to them that popped off your lips in a way that only a true master of prosody could do. With phrases such as “famous dancers scraped the tears up off the street” and “kids flash guitars just like switchblades,” Springsteen had become a poetic songwriter. From these concrete images that roll off the lips, I started creating my own voice in poetry and songwriting.
In respect to Van Morrison, I was less interested in the lyrics than the process. I didn’t focus on his lyrics mainly because of how open they were for interpretation. If I wrote Port Aux Basques with the same lyrical vagueness, the non-poet, mainstream-music-oriented reader would have a hard time caring about the text. To this specific reader, my target audience, I wanted them 15
to approach a poem and know exactly what it is saying after only reading it one time through; I have included footnotes for clarity on Newfoundland background and terminology. I believe that having concrete meaning and imagery is more productive for addressing this reader. Regarding process, Astral Weeks began with the words. This correlates to my collection in that the music should be in the words. Van Morrison wrote the lyrics, sang them with a guitar for a backbeat, and then improvisational instrumentalists came into the studio and recorded the remainder of the arrangements in live group recordings. The foundation of the album was on the words and the rest of the album was created around them. The process of improvising the arrangement relates to my own process in that through improvising, I create more natural, conversational, and original work.
Conclusion
I hope that through reading this Port Aux Basques that my readers will gain an understanding of the ways in which music is in conversation with the world around it. This means both culture and narrative. This poetry collection is meant to also be read as a narrative concept album — Newfoundland culture is a concept that bridges the poems together, the narrative immerses the reader in a unique and connected collection, and the term “album” places the collection into context with poetry. I hope through reading and sharing this collection that it becomes apparent that music doesn’t necessarily have to go beyond the page.
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[top]
Musicians:
Lenny – Townie
Cindy – Bayman
Lockjaw/Lidskjalf – Outlaw
Damian – Port Aux Basques MC President
Barricado – Corner Brook MC President
The Troubadour – the narrator who sings the stories
Written by Payton Gosse
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Poems/Song Lyrics:
The Troubadour’s Preface: “Songs That Heal”
1A — Overture
Port Aux Basques
Rail
Instrumental
Barricado
What Shagged Lock
Hideaway
Lockjaw’s Locker
The Diner
Easy Livin’
That Was You
Sin Victim
1B — Crescendo
Matchbox Misdirection
Curbside Battle
Safe House
Instrumental
Two Weeks
Runnin’ on Fumes
Pray to Stay
2A — Dimuendo
Lately, I’ve Been Thinkin’ [Part 1]
On the Wind
Lockjaw’s Release
Jalopy Seat
Poor Hangashore
Last Stop
2B — Encore
Instrumental
Vermouth
Lately, I’ve Been Thinkin’ [Part 2]
In the Slip
Red Island Manic
Follow Me Down
Lift Me Up: Heartbreak in Heaven
When It Rains
Moonlit Spotlight
The Troubadour’s Coda 19
20
Songs That Heal
The Troubadour’s Preface
In this slow down town
I woke dead ‘n confused,
I found my solace
in these few written tunes.
I’ve needed a savior
to make me believe
there’s so-much to livin’
with your heart on your sleeve.
We know this man
We’ve played the part
of keepin’ an even keel.
There’s a fire that hides
a storm in our eyes—
it’s written in songs that heal.
Took cover from storm
in a shack on a wharf,
a man sits beside me,
took hold of me gloves.
He says that they look worn,
like the lines on me face.
That although I was weary,
he had a story more grave.
We know this man
We’ve played the part
of keepin’ an even keel.
There’s a fire that hides
a storm in our eyes—
it’s written in songs that heal.
He tells me his stories
will leave me with fists,
that I won’t be needin’ gloves
to hold onto me wits.
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He says that there’s rumors
of legends that passed,
and he’d clear them all up
‘n tell ‘em as fact.
We know this man
We’ve played the part
of keepin’ an even keel.
There’s a fire that hides
a storm in our eyes—
it’s written in songs that heal.
The tales of the Basques are
sea-salted and brutal
from paper in pocket
to lips that renew.
We keep our topsails.1
Keep wind in our lungs.
Listen with ears full.
Our lives have just begun!
We know this story
We’ve played the parts
of keepin’ an even keel.
There’s a fire that hides
a storm in our eyes—
it’s written in songs that heal.
1 Pronounciation: [topsuls] 22
[top]
OVERTURE
First Album “A side”
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24
Port Aux Basques
Lenny, out of a job
Railroad shut down1
Abandoned on the docks
arrangin’ trains until I’m insane.
Mixmatchin’ boxes,
hit the green light,
and they’re sent away.
Trains
still roll slow.
Workin’ like the tides:
drifting in and out all night.
Broke business —
got nothin’ here worth winnin’.
Mimic the Boss’s mistress —
yellin’ Ho-Ho like it’s Christmas.
Try’na stay sharp,
but the engines fall apart.
That machine is shut down.
(Smoke break for us both.)
It never starts runnin’.
Port’s gone under,
rails don’t match,
there’s no catch.
This job was bound to choke.
Port Aux Basque is bayside trash,
bound with bums with rum.
I’m just one who keeps that echo
floatin’ hollow in cars that run
all messed up,
all dressed up
in spray paint glitter and rust.
1 The railroad shipping industry shut down in Newfoundland because the rails were a different width than the carts coming in from outside of Newfoundland; Newfoundland was the last province to join Canada. All the tracks were removed and sold. 25
Rail
Lenny and Lockjaw at the abandoned railroad tracks.
I trip across the railroad ties,
left for us ‘n left to rot,
uncap some paint ‘n good rail whisky1:
spray the boxcar, take a shot.
Me ‘n Lockjaw’ve got this place wicked2.
I steal his Lucky cig ‘n give a cough.
He stares at me, ‘n eyes the bottle.
I’m too slow, Lock’s polished her off.
I sip that cig ‘n breathe right at him.
He dozes off under the cart.
The paint drips down ‘n hits his forehead.
I watch him sleep ‘n I flip him off.
Cig’s too hot, can’t help but drop it.
Just happened to land right in Lock’s jaw.
He wakes ‘n whacks his head right foolish3.
He spits out the butt, it lands in moss.
I breathe burnt moss ‘n strike a match;
it shrivels lilies, knocks daisies down.
I breathe bright colors tarred to black.
I break my last match,
and I let it drown.
1 The term without an ‘e’, as in “whiskey,” is linked to being made in Scotland; as in Scotch whisky.
2 Excellent; wonderful.
3 Completely insane. 26
Instrumental
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Barricado
Lenny and Lockjaw meet Barricado.
Lenny (aside): Out of the blue, Lock slams the door back,
chucks his phone, lets it crash.
Lockjaw: Gotta go.
Lenny (aside): We’re cut off cold: no food, no cash,
only wife beaters on our backs.
Lockjaw: Find Barricado.
Lenny (aside): He’s the man who trained Lock in fight pits.
Past that, I don’t know shit.
Lenny: After you b’y.
Lenny (aside): He leads me through a seaside shack.
A voice speaks, but where at?
Barricado: Speak.
Lenny (aside): Lock’s gone in the dark, the musky abyss.
There’s a whisper, I still catch it.
Lockjaw: I hammered an anvil
that can handle, and forge,
worse.
Lenny (aside): A drawer opens to switchblades, six-shooters,
TNT, and dirty keys.
Barricado: Choose.
Lenny (aside): He holds up two fingers, the sign of peace.
Lock’s eyes dart to the piece and keys.
Lockjaw: An anvil can’t last forever.
Lenny (aside): Shoving both into his jeans — one pocket, one along his spine —
we nod and start the long walk back.
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Lenny: What’s the key to, b’y?
Lenny (aside): He twists his head and peeks to the side,
quickens his pace, and his eyes glare wide.
Lockjaw: Quick!
Lenny (aside): Lock jumps in the pines, I trip in after.
Three Harley’s thunder blurs with laughter.
Lockjaw: I can’t walk the road. We need a ride.
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What Shagged Lock
Lenny: I’m just a tag-teamin’ fool
hidin’ out on outskirts of woods
while cars whiz on, and on, ‘til Lock
gives one a smack. smack!
That was a bold move —
runnin' away from a lover,
close call but got a car to pull over,
drawing the spadille1 and dealin’ with a monsoon.
Lockjaw: If I’ve got guts, am I a fool
hidin’ out on outskirts of woods
while cars whiz on, and on, ‘til I
risk givin’ my head a crack?
I made a bold move —
runnin' away from a lover,
close call but got a car to pull over,
drawing the spadille and dealin’ with a monsoon.
Here’s the real deal.
I’m deep in trouble:
Whacked the guy cuttin’ tacker2 from Boss’s chukkas.
What a deal.
All this money’s in my pocket,
but Boss’s feet are bare, so he’ll be coming after Lockjaw!
The Troubadour: Cars pullin’ over’s like the Golden rule
of pickin’ up strangers like you’d hope they would
for you, but Tools will rob, and stop
like a knife in a back: whack!
Lockjaw: We’re headed for the shack.
1 The ace of spades; signifies bad luck.
2 Cobbler’s waxed thread. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English) 30
Hideaway
Lenny
LJ’s key cranks the abandoned bay-house doors
by their double doozy latch.
I kickstart the old beater to the project dock,
Molotov our prints to the breeze,
flash light and trace new ones inside —
wonderfully naked from rubbin’ boards free
from dusty leaves and waterlogged matches.
We slump, idle — sand blasted from the beater bomb
that fell bested to the sea off yonder.
Dreams of fire light the house ablaze and we wake
to frantic breath, stagnant in the air, and fall asleep,
holding our ground in the fire that surrounds
us, but we trust that from ashes we’ll grow stronger.
There’s a tap on my shoulder.
I swing my fist, Lock catches, and tells me
Hey. Snap your boots on.
Let’s go fishing.
I whisk his face away
and slip my eyelash shades shut. He mumbles,
Hey. Work cut out on an oil rig.
Back by three.
31
Lockjaw’s Locker
Lenny about LJ
We were meant to meet at the bay.
He didn’t show.
He was wading water off to the east.
I could almost see those boats surrounding
that oil rig,
they were ticking three leagues out at sea.
He’d been aboard that metal vessel.
Called to shore:
a fifteen-minute talk that broke short in a scream.
Changed my radio from punk rock1 to real news.
Heard the issue.
Tears hit my eyes when the victims’ names hit me.
It said,
Twelve boats foundered2
when the rig hit the water.
There was icy wind that bit the faces
of all the sailors, busting lips
and noses off,
eyes frozen shut,
and bodies floating, shattered.
We could barely recognize ‘em,
but here’re the names we stacked up.
Lock’s.
His shined like a diamond —
cut just the same,
deep in my chest.
That pain, it hurts.
Oh, it hurts.
He’s gone. Gone.
Oh, it hurts.
1 Reference to Irish musical heritage.
2 To crumble, capsize, let fall, to cause to collapse. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English) 32
The Diner
Lockjaw and Cindy
Lockjaw: There’s me Cin.
I need to talk to you —
Cindy: I’m not your Cin, don’t even knows your name.
You needs to get away from me or I puts you in your grave.
I’m in the middle of me shift, I knows a curb that ain’t been bit.
Shag off or I call the cops, and you be in some shit.
Lockjaw: Listen. I need you to listen.
Put down the phone. I really miss you.
We can skip town, like a rock on a stream —
as long as water’s deep enough, we’ll vanish from the scene.
They think I’m dead — my ID’s on some teen:
an underage with feet blown off, some greenhorn1 turned thirteen.
I knew you first, your father’s club second.
This is more than skin-deep love, but I’m feelin' lead bullets sink in.
Cindy: Shag off. I needs you to shag off.
Get out of this diner. I wants to kill you.
That bullet’s sunk ‘cause your chest is hollow —
it fell down to your cock ‘n stuck, now blow yourself to Hell.
Don’t hand me that. Don’t needs your batty2.
Drive on right on out o’ here. I see you crash ‘n bleeding.
Lockjaw: Goodbye Cin.
(aside) [I’ve a plan to pursue.]
1 An inexperienced sealer. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English)
2 A sum (of money); an amount or boat-load. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English) 33
Easy Livin’
Damian and his friends
A lesson for his daughter
Damian: I
walked in-
to the outskirts of this town —
Friends: What a battle.
Damian: I
walked away
from beasts of love, and lost —
Friends: What he had going.
Damian: She
was fine,
finer than the day —
Friends: God made flowers.
Damian: She
was mine
all mine until the day —
Friends: He killed her.
Damian: This is
just
easy livin’.
Nothing matters where you’re from.
It’s not just
a good heart
or a rough start,
but the chance to make it all
good again.
I
walked in-
to your mother’s club so blind —
Friends: With her love.
Damian: I
worked away
at the rough spots in her club —
Friends: She was gravel.
34
Damian: Your mum stole what it took the club to earn.
That money-maker was shit for brains.
Two shots and a sea-side grave deep enough to let her burn —
she wanted to run away.
She
was fine,
but her way was wrong and mine
was oh, so perfect.
She
was mine,
but that fine line of a boss
calls for commitment.
Friends: Which we never saw.
Damian: This is
just
easy livin’.
Nothing matters where you’re from.
It’s not just
a good heart
or a rough start,
but the chance to make it all
good again.
Damian: Don’t
you worry.
Her love’s still here with us.
I distilled it in this bitter — this bitter oh, so elegant —
daughter.
35
That Was You
Cindy’s father to himself
I remember you knockin’ on my door.
Your eye was black. My heart went blue.
I was ready to kill that devil man,
but that was makeup. That was you.
36
Sin Victim
Damian & Cindy.
Cindy: Break glass, get rich, and start over again.
Break glass, get rich, and start over again.
All I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever been.
Found a dark house, its windows rebel weeds.
Found a dark house, rebel weeds are in its seams.
Her hands’ll meet their match pulling out that ivy.
Damian: Rip that ivy off and your hands’ll turn to red.
You’ll scratch the skin off your hands. Look now, they’ve bled.
See, that poison’s treating you like the life you’ve never shed.
I’ve got a backseat, but you walk away instead.
I’ve got a backseat, but you walk away instead.
You joining the clinic’s victims? There’s no line, so go ahead.1
You can’t walk this off, so just get in the car.
Why you walking off? Nothing’s wrong in the car.
Cindy: I don’t want your charity, your cars, your cheap cigars,
your curtain calls, your Cutthroat draws
All you do…
D: What cigars?
C: …is degrade me.
We’ve got a house. I don’t care, it’s not a home.
D: [Wait, you smoke? I don’t care.] Let’s make it home.
1 Ironic because there is always a giant waiting list at the hospital…weeks/months/years. 37
38
[top]
CRESCENDO
First Album “B side”
39
Matchbox Misdirection
Lenny on a matchbox mission.
After fishing.
One strike left in a restaurant matchbox
and I’m out. Out, backing up
the graveled-over pick-up road.
Fishing poles scratch my quarter glass windows
tip-tap a beat-beat ‘til I jam
the breaks, my back, their chatter-laughs.
Drive on. Brown’s closed three hours ago,
so where to check? Check the trash—
only burnt-up oil, oh
— Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,
if they’s open,
those match-packs be popped
like confetti, like loonies1
in a stripper bin or candy
from a mini-van on Sundays.
Jesus, Jesus,
Jesus.
You pushed away the rock,
let life return. Let me return
to my life with Lock, or walk
through the water to my grave.
Homeless fire-can’s a spot a light up.
They go back, back to boxes
of cardboard. Where’d they go?
The days of old?
1 Canadian one-dollar coins. 40
Curbside Battle
Lenny on the curb.
A stranger arrives.
1
Dippin’ in the stiff ring
of cigarin’ trouble. Used to hit Lock up
but now he’s the one’s
got me hustlin’.
Can’t say I’ve been a good boy—
talk trash same as I eat it,
threw it in the backseat — the Olds has had it —
but his old lady ratted me out. So I’m
sittin’ on the curbside
watching shadows
dancing through my eyes
reflected in a bottle—
tough stout, mostly true to me flag,
red and white.
Bottle’s black but under this light,
its bluer than Devil’s balls:
he’s on withdrawal as I’ve kept men
out of my mind: been clean of ecstasy
all my life.
2
“‘Scuse me, me son, light me up?”
a half fool1 stranger bends down with his twist.2
two puff pass, a few laughs and we’re
sittin’ on the curbside
watching shadows
running from the sunrise—
steam from a kettle—
1 A mentally deficient person.
2 Cigarette rolled by the smoker. 41
tough spout, all act, no talking-man,
white turns red — he took the last drag —
it’s burning hot. Fog creeps in, cold,
sittin’ on the curbside
watching shadows
sit down on the curbside.
42
Safe House
Lenny meets Cindy.
Lenny: Those half-rotten mailbox death threats came in hot but now they’ve stopped:
the mailman was heartbroken feeding my denial of dear Lock.
He’s gone. Gone like every shot I poured.
More lost to me than sleep.
His life’s like my cigar, too short.
Is Death holdin’ out its hand for me?
A sudden suffocating cry came veering through an oriel.
I peeked out through its dark mystique ‘til the shadow formed an angel:
Cindy: They’re gone. Gone like every shot I poured.
All that’s left to me is sleep.
This life’s like an unlit cigar —
Death holds its hand out for me.
Lenny: I whisk her red-eyed, swollen body inside and pour up Screech1.
She sips and loses her breath right quick — was a present from Lock to me.
But it’s gone. Gone with every shot I poured.
Memory lost to all but sleep,
and life has sailed onto my shore —
surely, Death will let me be.
1 Newfoundland Rum. 43
Instrumental
44
Two Weeks
Lenny & Cindy.
Two weeks skipped like a beat on our heart strings,
fluttering from sleeping in, where lights dimmed,
holding out by going out to the beach,
where her soft eyes aligned with mine, flirting
like a flame puffing on campfire lumber.
But our slumber was a trance. We were running
on romance, two lovers in the rain — one
falling to a splash, the other tried to catch,
but laughed — cold in our own sweat, puzzled
by a mix of happy and hard frets.
Do we fold away our past, or regret
thinking we have the best it’s gonna get?
We don’t talk much, but there’s three hard knocks here
forcing us away from what feels safe.
45
Runnin’ on Fumes
From the safehouse to the gas station.
Lenny:
I’se just sittin’ there reading your eyes when that crack came at the door.
Seen that glass-eyed man with a heavy hand and I asks him where I’d seen him before.
He says, Hell man. We smoked cigs on the street. You borrowed a light from me.
Now, the light’s gone in this little bay town where the fog1 hits the gas station windows.
Know as much to how that guy got my address as to if he’s still back there breathin’.
Barricado:
That little punk looked at me like I was drunk. Couldn’t see my face the first time we met.
His eyes glazed over when I shouted at him, asking where he’s been hiding his friend.
He thought Lockjaw was long dead, so that news’s some harsh, but b’y2 was it long overdue.
Now that we’ve got the car back Boss man, let’s just wait for them to step outside.
This fog’s as thick as that smoke down the road but keep an eye out the passenger side.
Damian:
Yeah, when the skeet3 said Lock had never returned, that business side of me was over.
I tick-tocked in ‘n up to my daughter, grabbed her arm and said the car was runnin’.
You almost shot her, and that’s why she took the car ‘n tried burnin’ us alive.
Ain’t my fault the drugs never got to you. Now, waddy got me lookin’ out the window?
Ain’t been cops here since the mummers came around. We escaped them just like that fire.
Cindy:
I was almost shot! I was almost shot! I’m glad I Molotov’d that place.
My father was forcin’ me to leave and his colleague, he tried to shoot me!
Not like we could give him tilly4. Just let it all swinge5 away.
Glad he said his car was runnin’. Made it easier to take it ‘n go.
Woulda been nice he’d filled her up — this gas station’s too close to home.
1 In reference to Newfoundland’s consistently foggy climate.
2 Resembles “boy”; a male of any age; a freq term of address; a marker of informality or intimacy. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English)
3 A term applied to the stereotype associated with young lower class citizens who use drugs, alcohol, and non-standard English
4 A small amount over and above quantity purchased, presented as a gift. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English)
5 To singe, scorch. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English) 46
Rustle more jerky ‘n muffins in me purse. Ain’t gotta pay if cashier don’t see.
As if. He’s too distracted by the cloud of smoke pouring in from down the street.
Quick, out the door, shit! Barricado’s sittin’ front seat, pistol cocked ready for second shot.
(We climb in, but his gun hasn’t left me. We’s flyin’ out like rumors in the night.)
47
Instrumental 48
Pray to Stay
Cindy in response to Lenny proposing in the backseat
I knows he knows my Dad’s up front.
Didn’t ask him for my hand.
Knows he’ll never call him his son,
still he tucked knee to the floor
and I think n’ pray Dad understands.
Lenny, you can’t stay
the same man that you were.
You’d be half a heart away from being free,
so, what’s it worth?
You don’t know the kinds of trouble
a girl can domino.
So why, after all I’ve said,
are you still on the floor?
Well Cindy. Sweet Cindy.
You haven’t told me, No.
49
50
[top]
DIMUENDO
Second Album “A side”
51
Lately, I’ve Been Thinkin’ [Part 1]
Lockjaw thinking himself about Lenny and Cindy
Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ about
all those pound dogs
gettin’ mange from being broken at home
only to be stuck, once more, behind cage bars.
Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ about
how they’re starving for a clean soul to let ‘em out,
off the leash, because they’re not beasts,
that’s just what they were made to believe.
Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ about
all their wild owners
buying into abuse as the given truth,
obedience through hateful stares, so quiet, there’s no use.
Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ about
what you two’ve become:
not owners but disowned mutts —
a bitch who doesn’t trust
so tears fight up, and just
leave you where you stick —
always coming back for your
doghouse shit.
I need to find a place
for the restless and the uncaged.
Lately, I’ve been treating you
like dogs, and you’ve done better.
I fed you a daily dose of oppression.
Lenny, you let her lap up a chance
to escape from a bitter past —
an escape I can’t seem to make.
Lately, I’ve been thinkin’
it’s a triple dog dare.
I hope someone wins. 52
On the Wind
Lockjaw
Stoplight.
Switchin' gears on go.
Stoplight.
Switchin' gears on go.
Stoplight.
Switchin’ gears on go.
Crank on the brakes, at the auction for a home.
Lockjawgottacallit oncegoin’twice giveahalf-secondsold
runnin’n'runnin'n'runnin'withthemoney, trade'n'escape, raceback
tothehatchback, kickintogear,
pullawayfromhere’n’bringthosetwokidsahometokeep'emclear.
Stoplight.
Drivin' through on red.
Stoplight.
Drivin’ through on red.
Stoplight.
Drivin' through on red.
Stop.
Lights go out.
The night’s gone red.
53
Lockjaw’s Release
Lockjaw to Damian
My legs feel numb, half shattered in the front seat,
while my chest feels cold against the blood-stained concrete.
My eyes glaze over, but catch a misty red face
leaning down beside me, cradling my fall from grace.
Damian’s lonely tears flow through these battered hands,
trembling as I search for breath…
…the last breath of Lidskjalf.
Hold
my
head
straight
my
head
up
don’t
drop
me
I
can’t
feel
much
can’t
breathe
much
more
than
this
so here are papers—
branded love they
built not
me 54
Jalopy Seat
Damian to Lockjaw
Now you’re free.
Now I’m free with two kids in the backseat,
and Barry turned to roadkill.
What’s this world comin’ to?
In the hollow of a jalopy seat,
lays a man
in front of me.
He never done no wrong—
he never hurt someone—
without
thinkin’ ‘bout
the peace.
He said my name and closed his eyes.
It’s not like me to patronize,
but I never thought you was one to die —
in the hollow of a jalopy seat,
lays a man
in front of me.
He never done no wrong—
he never hurt someone—
without
thinkin’ ‘bout
the peace.
55
Poor Hangashore1
Damian driving with Lenny and Cindy in the backseat.
All the leaves
around me
are dyin’.
All the waves
are cryin’.
Just like that
ghost — a spirit from the
coast, a lamb without a
coat, a toad I thought would
never croak — oh, ain’t it
wicked what doesn’t show?
What do I know?
I’m a poor old hangashore.
Those pot auger2 days left me dry as a bone.
This heart of stone’s
been a poor old pigeonhole —
in those pot auger days, I kept it half closed;
only to scold
‘cause I’m a poor old hangashore.
But I finally got a letter and I’ve gotta send ‘em home.
All the leaves
around me
are waitin’
and all the waves
are waitin’
to fall like a
storm, bees in a
swarm, fire on a
meteor, me and Barry out the
back door — oh, ain’t it
wicked they’re so beautiful?
1 1. A weak, sickly person; an unlucky person deserving pity; freq preceded by poor; 2. A worthless fellow; 3. An idle, mischievous child or person. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English)
2 Bygone days, olden times. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English) 56
What do I know?
I’m a poor old hangashore.
Those pot auger days left me dry as a bone.
Their hearts of gold’ve
got me in a stranglehold.
It’s hard to say I’ve gotta let my little girl go.
If I don’t,
she’ll be a poor old hangashore.
I’m holdin’ this letter and takin’ her home.
57
Last Stop
Damian drives Lenny and Cindy, both unconscious, to their new house
A rough ride.
The last stop.
The night’s feelin’ warm.
The wind through
the sun roof’s
a singin’ guitar.
Rumbling through
Port au Port,
aimin’ for Cape Saint George.1
No belongings.
No vices.
Just a magical force —
I’ll
leave them with love,
drag them inside
mount their lease on the door.
They
will wake to a miracle,
and no trap door
can drop them down anymore.
Cindy,
if you hear my voice,
don’t you worry,
here’s the last thing for you to know:
Lenny,
he loves you dearly,
more than the club does,
so, hold on and never let go.
1 Cape Saint George is on the tip of Port au Port Peninsula in western Newfoundland; roughly an hour from Stephenville Crossing — a stop on the abandoned Newfoundland Railway. 58
[top]
ENCORE
Second Album “B side”
59
Instrumental
60
Vermouth
Lenny to Cindy
Where’d the sun go?
Why you leaving me so soon?
I’ll pour you a glass
of your favorite vermouth.
You know it’s cold out ,
so shake off your boots.
I’ll breathe a new fire,
just light up a smile.
Don’t take me for granted.
I don’t mean to seduce:
I thought that was something
you always knew.
You and I both question it:
why on Earth we breakdown.
We patronize, but it’s just a joke.
It’s been three years and we’ve never spoken
about us.
So here we go.
I’ll fix the cabin.
You’ll make it a home.
It won’t be heaven, but the stream will be
our golden shore.
The water’s getting high
but some sandbags will fix that, I’m sure.
When I’m at that in the morning,
take the kayak and cruise the coast.
I’ll be waiting when you get back,
but ‘til then, let’s make a toast.
I’ll pour you a glass of your favorite vermouth.
I’ll breathe a new fire, just light up a smile.
61
Lately, I’ve Been Thinkin’ [Part 2]
Lenny to Cindy in the cabin.
Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ about
the most amazing things.
Like the sun sets, and I getta watch it set
right next to you.
Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ about
all those northern nights
when the fire went down and we had enough sticks
to last us through the night.
(But we got bit up by mosquitoes.
They painted our necks red.)
Lately, I’ve been thinking about
all those nights when we’d go out to the lake,
and we’d drift around and open bottles with our teeth
and you’d float away from me.
The rain sweeped in, so we got to the bank:
It was muddy, so I pulled myself up
by the stems of daisies and lilies—all breaking off.
You gave me your hand, I gave you that bouquet.
You laughed as I slipped back in the drink.
It’s okay ‘cause I knew we’d be together someday.
And I just want to talk. I don’t want to think.
62
In the Slip1
Cindy to Lenny in the cabin.
I know I
held out my hand before.
I still laughed
and kept my back turned.
I know I
shouldn’t walk out that door.
Life’s so fast,
it’s time to bring back the hurt.
Lenny,
hold onto my hands.
Got an angel up above cryin’ tears so mine won’t come.
my fodder2 knocked down
any chances of love, making him the only one.
My mom —
my fodder shot her down
after stealin’ his drugs — raisin’ me, a stubborn thug.
My only memory
remains covered in blood — only time we ever hugged.
My boyfriend —
I didn’t know him,
robbed money and drugs, leavin’ me in fodder’s club —
they buried the bodies
b’neath Red Island’s3 moss — untouched since he started to run.
You know, that’s why
I keep kayakin’ out.
I didn’t know
if I loved you or not.
I’m sure I
do, but have I said too much?
Loves you Lenny.
I’ll hold your hand again tonight.
1 A snare, arranged like a noose, to catch wild animals and birds (Dictionary of Newfoundland English); also means clear of danger
2 Newfoundland bay pronunciation of “father”
3 A small island off the coast of Port au Port Peninsula; about 6 miles from Cape Saint George 63
Island Manic
Cindy kayaking.1
I’m caught in me
own rip current.
The dirt ain’t loose.
Are me feelin’s still stirrin’?
Can I loves Lenny
knowin’ this love’s burnin’?
Light’ouse ain’t on
but sun’s fallin’ asleep.
Some clap of thunder’s
boomin’ like me heartbeat.
Told Lenny ‘bout the mob —
think I see them on the beach.
Silhouettes are followin’ me,
followin’ me from beach to beach.
Might be the boys, might be evergreens.
Clouds are comin’ and the wind’s against me.
I’m screamin’ out, screamin’ out for Lenny.
The swells drown them out, me kayak’s bustin’ at the seams.
I can see the shore, but water’s suckin’ me down.
Never been so scared of the dark
1 Experienced paddlers are known to travel roughly 18 miles per day; Red Island is about 6 miles from Cape Saint George (Kayaking World, Kayaking World Pty Ltd, 2005-2012). 64
Follow Me Down
Lenny
I’m huddled inside with waterlog’ clothes gettin’
colder on the porch.
The stove’s on high, me runnin’ nose floatin’
over the kettle’s warmth.
Me shoulders are teepeed with knit wool.
The rain unfogs the windows.
I slip back on my porch clothes.
Don’t know if Cindy can see through
the rain.
It follows me down
to the ocean.
It beats down harder than the thunder through the sea.
It follows me down
to the ocean
where bog cotton, once solace,
takes the breath right out of me.
The stream’s muddy side pulls me sandbags below its
shadows like a winch.
The carnivorous tide jams driftwood ashore like
puffins on Elliston.1
Me flashlight shines out at the deep blue.
The lightning shows me it’s no use.
The mist blinds me, I stumble through driftwood.
Not just driftwood.
1 An island in Newfoundland known for puffin watching. 65
It’s Cindy.
Her hands are like ice.
Her face is like ice.
Her lips are like ice.
Her eyes black as night.
It’s Cindy,
so I carry her up.
I carry her up,
‘cause I can’t give up,
can’t lose this love.
Cindy’s
every shot of whisky. Cindy’s
every campfire. Cindy’s
every bouquet of lilies. Cindy’s
every sun setting on fire,
every “feeling lonely” moment when I try not to think of her.
It follows me down
to the ocean.
It beats down harder than the thunder through the sea.
It follows me down
to the ocean
where bog cotton, once solace,
takes the breath right out of me.
66
Lift Me Up: Heartbreak in Heaven
Cindy in Heaven & Lenny down below
Cindy: This ball ‘n chain breaks me.
My heart doesn’t belong
cloaked in clouds ‘til blinded
by the heartbreak down below.
Are you lonely out there
where the darkness takes hold?
My eyes are open wide.
Oh, I still need your love.
Won’t someone tell me
if I’m mad.
Fight the pain that’s keepin’ me
from liftin’ up.
Lenny: I’m down ‘n out crazy —
see an angel in ‘cuffs
soak the rain up in heaven
with my shoulder. I ask her,
Are you lonely in there
where you’re guarded by doves?
My eyes’ve gone dry.
All I need is your love.
Won’t someone stab me
in the back,
break the skin ‘n find two wings
to lift me up.
67
When It Rains
Lenny
It rained and my boat was carried away,
but the ocean took hold of it
and brought it on home to me.
The waves were all broken from bashing away
at the only true love of mine --
mistaken and taken from me.
I built a dam. Hoped no one would tear me
from her — I wouldn’t hurt or desert her.
She built a dam — my love couldn’t break it,
she tried to break free from the storm —
but it’s founded on old love, been put into motion.
She wanted to leave.
Somehow it went wrong.
She broke the dam. Came back to me steadfast —
whenever I cast off to sea
it grows
calm.
I’ve gotten back what I’ve been missin’,
but I’m left here all alone.
It rains and my boat is carried away.
The ocean lets go of it,
and soon me and her will meet.
68
Moonlit Spotlight
Lenny & Cindy, together again.
Lenny: You’re the break of day, the heart of the sea,
You’re what’s wrong with how I’m breathing.
Take it slow down memory lane:
bouquets in the rain.
The sparkle in your eye
keeps the stars alive.
Without them, it’s just
me and you, gazin’ up in the
moonlit spotlight.
I’ll twirl you
in my arms tonight.
Cindy: The world has never been this calm.
Stay with me, it won’t do you harm.
Let tomorrow do its worst —
I love you for what it’s worth.
Lenny: The sparkle in your eye
keeps the stars alive.
Without them, it’s just
me and you, gazin’ up in the
moonlit spotlight.
I’ll twirl you
in my arms tonight.
69
The Troubadour’s Coda
Morning clouds form in half-faded colors like Jellybean Row,1
way out from Main Gut2 toward Cape Saint George. 3
The trestle4 looks worn but its only rust covered, like cinnamon rolls,5
hiding names in spray paint on boxcars galore.6
Hear a ram horn with your ear to the squalor, the train track’s coal.
Iron horses7 turned to corpses; it’s a vessel with a troubadour.8
Whisky and rum kept their black caps ‘n luster,9 like fish in the shoals,10
while a single cig butt lies on a patch of dead moss.
1 A row of bright colored houses in St. John’s, Newfoundland.
2 The inlet separating Stephenville Crossing and Mattis Point.
3 The location of Lenny’s and Cindy’s house.
4 Main Gut Bridge
5 A common, yet traditional breakfast dessert; Newfoundlanders traditionally grew up with homemade bread, which is associated with homemade cinnamon rolls and being made with love.
6 In abundance (Dictionary of Newfoundland English)
7 Another term for trains.
8 One who composes or sings verses or ballads; also, a composer or writer in support of some cause or interest. ("troubadour, n." OED Online, Oxford University Press, January 2018, www.oed.com/view/Entry/206762. Accessed 16 March 2018.)
9 Description linked to Johnnie Walker Black Label and Newfoundland Screech
10 Area of shallow water where fish (esp cod) and bait-fish frequent. (Dictionary of Newfoundland English) 70
Annotated Bibliography
Baker, David. "Elegy and Eros: Configuring Grief." Virginia Quarterly Review, vol. 81, no. 2, Spring 2005, pp. 207-220. EBSCOhost, www2.viterbo.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=ip,cpid&custid=s6222504&db=lfh&AN=16489326&site=ehost-live&scope=site.
Walt Whitman’s “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd” is an elegy that is analyzed in this essay for its “complex narrative structure” and themes of death and eroticism. As the structure of my own narrative is important to me, it is important to understand and how Whitman uses narration; possibly writing a poem influenced by Whitman will help get myself familiar with elegies. Death is a theme most notably used at the end of my collection, so having an analysis of the elegy form will be useful in creating a poem with a different form and context than the rest. Eroticism is an important aspect of the love between the two main characters in my collection. Whitman’s poem and Baker’s analysis will be useful representations of what I can do with eroticism.
Caligula’s Horse. The Tide, the Thief & River’s End, Welkin Records, 2013.
This album is told through simplistic narration, often altering the chronological order of its plot. By studying the way in which this album constructs its lyrics, I can find a way to construct my own poems to prevent them from following a strict chronological order. Instead of flowing one scene to the next, I can use a similar pattern to this album by starting with a scene that comes later in the story-telling sequence, providing context for what came before.
Church, Eric. Mr. Misunderstood, EMI Nashville, 2015.
The lyrics in this album are written with supreme prosody, whether the writers, mainly Eric Church, but also co-writers Casey Beathard, Jeff Hyde, Ryan Tyndell, Travis Meadows, Jeremy 71
Spillman, Luke Dick, and Monty Criswell, know it or not. The way the phrasing is written, certain lines have more fierceness than others. The lyrical style and metaphors are anything but how people normally talk. However, they seem natural when written in a way to flow one word to the next. I will be studying the lyrics, notably in “Mixed Drinks About Feelings,” and the narrative and line length, such as the wanted-man on the run in “Knives of New Orleans,” to help develop a similar natural style in my poetry collection.
Cosper, David. "Disruptive Voices: The Minor Characters of Musical Narrative." Narrative Culture, vol. 2, no. 1, 2015. MLA International Bibliography, go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?p=MLA&sw=w&u=waicu_viterbo&v=2.1&it=r&id=GALE%7CN2812976481&asid=074bf19f78d388f8591ddb77282ed3e5. Accessed 18 Oct. 2017.
To better understand the purpose and effect of narrative, this article will inform me about the perspectives used in lyrical and poetic narrative. This source will also explain the progression of characters in a narrative, how the narrator views such characters, and how the reader will view the narrator’s perspective. These perspectives are important in developing my own collection into various levels of complexity; I will learn how to write poems through a narrator’s perspective, and writing poems while aware of how the reader will view such a narrator.
Dalton, Mary. Merrybegot, Vehicule, 2004.
This poetry collection uses nautical themes and slang present in the lives of Newfoundland’s coastal inhabitants. It is widely recognized in the Newfoundland poetry community as being a highly influential and accurate representation of the oral tradition of storytelling and Newfoundland dialect. By referencing this collection, I can get a better understanding of what terms can be used to influence my own similar themes of nautical, rural, and informal speech.
Dove, Rita. Thomas and Beulah, Carnegie-Mellon UP, 1986. 72
Dove wrote this poetry collection with a narrative plot that progresses as the pages are turned. While each poem can be read as a work of art, Dove stated herself that they “are meant to be read in sequence.” This is an important text because the overall narrative concept that Dove used to create her collection will be used in mine. I intend to have the poems read in order, but also allow the poems to be read as separate works of art. By studying the narratological sequence, how the story progresses within one poem and from one to the next, I will have a better idea of how to shape my own collection.
Doyle, Gerald S. The Old Time Songs and Poetry of Newfoundland: Songs of Folklore, Humor, Tragedy and History from the Days of Our Forefathers. Gerald S. Doyle, 1927.
This source is useful because it describes the history of music and songwriting, both in composition and intention while writing. This relates to the composition and intention of my project.
Dylan, Bob. The Bootleg Series Vol. 9: The Witmark Demos: 1962–1964, Columbia, 2010.
There are forty-seven songs on this album, ranging from blues to folk. The lyrics are written and spoken with a rawness, a gritty conversational style that tells the struggles of everyday life, that I am trying to capture in my poetry collection. By rewriting his blues songs, I intend to gain a better understanding of how Dylan writes metaphors and uses repetition to create that rawness. There are a few folk songs with fewer metaphors, such as “Farewell,” “I Shall Be Free,” and “Boots of Spanish Leather,” that lack rawness but have a purity to them. This purity differs from rawness in that these songs do not use metaphors to explain the story, allowing the story to tell itself for what it is and nothing more. I will try to step into this rawness and purity where they will be effective in creating mood in my poetry collection.
Exit Through the Gift Shop. Paranoid Pictures Film Company Limited, 2010. 73
This film helped put my collection into cultural perspective. It helped me understand the influence that promoting has on what is deemed significant. Just as promoting graffiti artwork has made previously insignificant works of art a profitable and perceptually significant medium, promoting cliché music — both consciously by record labels and unconsciously by the public — has made cliché music the profitable genre and therefore significant because of its mainstream success.
Fussell, Paul. Poetic Meter & Poetic Form, McGraw-Hill, 1979.
The examples of poetic meter and form that this book provides are useful in helping me write poems that sound and appear different from each other. This book provides examples of meter, highlighting the importance of where and how many syllables are stressed. This will be useful when I construct poems as the placement of stressed syllables, short and long, will make the poems sound musical.
Gaye, Marvin. What’s Going On, Tamia, 1971.
An album like this speaks out against the injustice and violence of its time period. While there is not a distinct main character, and the narrative of one song does not connect to that of another, the topics discussed in each of the songs relate to a unified whole. By finding what phrases connect to violence in each song, I can use a similar pattern in phrases to progress topics of violence in my poetry collection.
Helesic, Day. “The Fairy Folklore of Newfoundland.” Canadian Living, 28 May, 2015. http://www.canadianliving.com/life-and-relationships/travel/article/the-fairy-folklore-of-newfoundland.
This source includes quotes from an interview with Peter Laracy, the general manager of Cupid’s Legacy Centre in Newfoundland: a museum of folklore. 74
James Creek Road. James Creek Rd., 2004.
This album marks my uncle’s first album with his bluegrass band. The Christian roots in the album are ones I would like to explore. As my character progresses throughout the poems, I intend to show signs of his Christian background, making it more prominent at the end as a sign of becoming more morally pure. Christianity is also a strongly held religion in Newfoundland, Canada, where our family is from; this region plays a strong role in my poetry collection, so I intend to do it justice by using the imagery, rhymes, and religion on this album.
Justice, Donald. Collected Poems, Knopf, 2004.
Poems from this collection, especially “Two Blues,” “Thinking About the Past,” and “Psalm and Lament,” contain repetition that is necessary for me to understand in creating a variety of poems. There is a theme of darkness is these poems that are similar to the origins of my main characters. By studying these poems for how their diction creates their dark image and plot, I will have a better understanding of how to do that in my own poems.
Kayaking World, Kayaking World Pty Ltd, 2005-2012. http://www.kayakingworld.com.au/page15/page15.html. Accessed on 13 Mar 2018.
Magee, Dennis W. Freshwater Wetlands: A Guide to Common Indicator Plants of the Northeast. U of Massachusetts P, 1981, pp. 88.
Description of bog cotton.
Maynard, Lara. “Traditional Instrumental Music.” Heritage: Newfoundland & Labrador, 2001, http://www.heritage.nf.ca/articles/society/traditional-instrumental-music.php.
This source explores traditional instrumental music with its ties to dancing, storytelling, and the preserving Newfoundland’s heritage through the recording industry.
75
Pink Floyd. The Wall. Harvest/Columbia, 1979.
This album has a strong narrative element flowing from one song to the next. The main character, Pink, contemplates abuse, parental loss, and isolation. While my main character is not going through as dark of imagery, the storyline is an effective example of how to structure my own. This source will prove effective in helping me lay out how to structure the narrative in my poetry collection, but also in constructing my main character’s background and contemplative side; my main character shows similarities to Pink in that his parents lack control over his actions and he contemplates in isolation.
Rum Ragged. “St. John’s Train.” Rum Ragged, Rum Ragged, 2 July 2016.
This song mixes traditional Newfoundland music with blues music, discussing Newfoundland’s abandoned railway.
Sellers, Heather. The Practice of Creative Writing: A Guide for Students. Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2nd ed., 10 Aug. 2012.
This was the textbook used in English: Introduction to Creative Writing. It helped me articulate how to use imagery, tension, pattern, insight, and revision while writing poetry.
Springsteen, Bruce. Born to Run, Columbia, 1975.
This album showcases Bruce Springsteen’s lyrical talent at creating songs with the theme of an endless summer night. I could draw from his lyrical metaphors and similes, such as “deep heart of the night,” “famous dancers scraped the tears up off the street,” and “kids flash guitars just like switchblades,” to help create figurative language that is similar to his. This will help preserve the musicality that is crucial to writing in the genre of a narrative concept album.
This also helped me with writing a collection that is meant to be read alone but perceived as live. While people listen to Born to Run, they may do so in isolation or around others, it’s 76
impossible not to hear the record in relation to being played live. This was my intention with creating this collection; poetry is to be read in isolation or shared among a small knit community, but my collection should be read with a live perspective. Much like Springsteen’s influence in creating Born to Run, I intended for my collection to mimic a film, and for the poems to feel lively, energetic, and very real, very concrete.
Stewart, Margaret. “Traditional Gaelic Singing.” Margaret Stewart, 19 May 2012, http://www.margaretstewart.com/margarets-blog/traditional-gaealic-singing.
This source helped me put my poetry into the context of traditional Newfoundland singers. They would sing in a Gaelic fashion where fluxtuations of the voice would serve as their own rhythm that would be an injustice if restricted to the conventional timing found in instrumental arrangements. My own writing still follows strict rhythms, yet these rhythms aren’t restricted by instrumental arrangements. At times in the collection, there are arrangements. However, such arrangements are not accompanied by words.
Story, George Morley. Dictionary of Newfoundland English, University of Toronto, 2004.
This dictionary encompasses old and new terminology from the Townies and the Baymen in Newfoundland, Canada. By using these terms and phrases where similar American terms and phrases are already present in my poems, I can create an atmosphere in my poetry collection that is similar to the Newfoundland region. This is important as this is reoccurring nautical imagery in my poems. This source will also be useful for translating the Newfoundland terms in Mary Dalton’s Merrybegot.
Trethewey, Natasha. Native Guard: Poems, Houghton Mifflin, 2006.
This collection contains poems, such as “Graveyard Blues” and “Incident,” that carry a significant contribution to my senior thesis. These poems contain elements of meaningful 77
repetition, metrical stressed words, and rhyme that help to influence the poems that I write in my own collection. I will work to create poems that repeat lines with the effect of adding meaning to them and use meter and rhyme to help progress the emotions behind the words.
Voigt, Ellen Bryant. The Art of Syntax: Rhythm of Thought, Rhythm of Song, edited by Charles Baxter, Graywolf, 2009.
Throughout this book, poems from various authors, such as Robert Frost and Stanley Kunitz, are examined for their strong use of syntax, rhyme, rhythm, and diction. These elements shape these poems into superb musical compositions. By seeing how other poets use these elements, I will get a better grasp on how to use them myself, which is important as these they help separate each poem.