Jul 22, 2020

Jeff Buckley

I’m listening to a dead man sing

and although his voice is hauntingly

beautiful, as he sketches nightmares

by the sea, I am not scared

of this bellowing ghost

but intoxicated

by his licks

strapped

with the loss of such a doomed

angel guitarist,

mysteriously disappeared

in 90s tide popularity.


Mad Moon Over Mehringdamm

It was the whisper behind your words, after being scared shitless by the description of the eight of cups, that triggered the vanishing of o...