blues_for_spring raze the thrum of church bells. someone's just been buried. someone's just been born. terriers bark to drown out dusty dobro licks on the radio. a preacher screams through static and stylus, his voice recorded straight to shellac in a cornfield or a rented room. in the low-lying land between the hills he sees two horses. one red. the other black. he says red is the colour of blood. blood. blood. i rise and fall to straighten my spine. sweat spreads across my forehead. i want to testify. i can see everything i need to in any part of this house without turning on a single light. well, i woke up this morning. the veil of dreams was too tough. said i woke up this morning. the veil of dreams was too tough. the sun hasn't hammered the chill into submission, but it'll get there soon enough. 220320 what's it to you? who go blather from