homage raze at the tribute show you could only attend as a ghost, rich played a weissenborn as big as a boat. he stood and smiled on the shaded stage, maybe thinking of some small, private moment that passed between you. a woman sat at a piano before my turn came and stole my thunder with the ice in her veins. she sang the song i meant to sing. there was a verse i hadn't heard before. something about how we're all part of the same glue that binds a book we won't get to read until we're gone. i tried to think of something else of yours i knew, and though i wasn't sure i had enough fire left in my lungs to do it justice, i settled on the fevered prayer that ends with this: "pull your eyelids over your head. fall asleep until you're dead. just think of people you love instead." 231115 what's it to you? who go blather from