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3rd & 4th December, 2005
Rod in Concert
Holland, December 2005!
San Sebastian Strings
albums now available on CD! Order
now!
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Photo by Edward McKuen 9/24/2005
A Thought for Today
Who is not a love seeker when December
comes, even children pray to Santa Claus.
FROM the¨BOOKS
THREE POEMS FROM "FIELDS OF WONDER"
1. Will
I want love
for those I love
to come from all sides
not just selfish me.
If the moon can rise for me
it ought to rise for those
who comfort me, direct or indirectly,
banked by paths that take the dreamer home
even when the dreamer doesn’t know
that I have willed his pleasant journey.
2. Brahms
The clock was running down
and I had taken no precaution
for the coming night.
All the while
your arms were disengaging,
your smile receding
and your touch not tender or not there.
Then-
(Please don’t ask me
what the hour was)
It must have been
Within the Brahma,
You went to sleep unsmiling.
If I knew
then I’d forgotten
that we were loving
at your option
entangling at your convenience
and elevating one the other
only just by your design.
Unprepared I was
and am
when any door
I thought I helped to open
closes while I look
the other way.
3. Other People's Music
I stay awake by choice
pretending to a pillow,
my arms wrapped `round it,
that the music coming through the walls
is being sent to me.
Then conversation kills the radio.
The pillow falls
and lullabies give way
to distant laughter
imagined movement
forced memory
and semi-perfect sleep.
- from "Fields of Wonder", 1971
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ROD McKUEN
CONCERTS
ROD
McKUEN APPEARANCES
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Saturday 3 December
Connee Boswell o
Anna Chlumsky o
Terry Cole-Whittaker o
Holly Marie Combs o
Joseph Conrad o
Phyllis Curtin o
Brendan Fraser o
Anna Freud o
Jean-Luc Godard o
Daryl Hannah o
Ferlin Husky Bucky Lasek o
Julianne Moore o
Jaye P.Morgan o
Ozzy Osbourne o
Sylvia Syms o
Andy Williams o
Katarina Witt
Sunday 4 December
Max Baer, Jr. o
Tyra Banks o
Pappy Boyington o
Jeff Bridges o
Horst Bucholz o
Samuel Butler o
Freddy Cannon o
Thomas Carlyle o
Ronnie Corbett o
Dena Dietrich o
Deanna Durbin o
Fred Durst o
Francisco Franco o
Wassily Kandinsky o
Wink Martindale o
Alex North o
Nan Peden o
Lillian Russell o
Jozef Sabovcik o
Marisa Tomei o
Dennis Wilson |
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Prayer is a handshake with hope.
The supply of love will never exceed the
demand, but it should.
There are no wise men, only men who go on gaining wisdom by staying
alert and being open.
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TWO NIGHTS PAST THE FULL MOON |
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Finally no one lives here.
Echoes, wind, climate climbing
or falling down -
rain rains while no one listens.
In the night, as in the day,
nothing moves, turns, climbs, runs,
jumps, or even is caught
standing still.
Passion seeps
below the bedsprings
to the slats and imperfection
in the
sagging floor.
Truth hides back
behind some bolted door
that no key fits.
At least not one I own
or loaned to me
and now in my possession.
Not even the legitimate lie,
if there is such a thing
is bothered with,
trotted out and dusted off
to slide past silence
into something.
Strangely I’m complacent,
not predisposed or looking.
Anxieties that I have lived with
day into night for years,
seem less important now.
This must be some new kind of peace -
demanding nothing.
What I have done
was done deliberately.
I placed my sensibilities
in some blind trust
like a presidential candidate
who takes his new influence sincerely.
I do not expect
that one day
things will change
go back to what we’re told
is normal.
( And what is normal
certainly one man’s definition
is too simple
as a hundred guardians
of what they call normalcy
confuse, conspire and even
trap the word
until it has no meaning).
There must be reasons
for this unnoticed disappearance
of nearly everything I prized.
Disappointment with myself
is surely one,
another might be
some new culture
that crept in
while all our backs were turned.
Indifference,
some new strain
that no vaccine has been
invented for
must bear responsibility
for so many changes
or so much I cannot figure out.
I only know that even ghosts
would now call this land uninhabited.
Do not expect people or a poltergeist
to enter through an archway
or from behind a hidden panel.
Let go.
Do not be disappointed.
No keys are jangling
and no door is left ajar.
Figures. People maybe -
move about behind barred windows,
stalk as shadows
past drawn blinds
and newly shuttered screens.
Two nights past the last full moon
and all the streets
are lunar landscapes.
- From Folio, 1974, 1985 |
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