*Baby here I am…
I forgot some good old lovin’
And I got me some more in store
When I get to thrown’ it on you
You got to come back for more
art happens when you’ve given up counting your failures
when you part the autumn veil and blink away the rain and eye scars of the light
when you lift your hand and thru your brush or your guitar…or your keyboard
comes the stuff of passion and hurt and courage
that thing that happens and is left for someone else
for the critics to butcher and the dreamers to hitch to
it’s where we find ourselves month after month, page after page.
sometimes, art fails—
actually, it’s the translation that fails, making bastard the idea,
winding up someplace different than it set out for.
but I can hear the mad strings of the carnie in my head
and the drums of the rebels in my belly
and from here we continue forward, but also back again—
your friends remind you you have nothing to lose
so you roll again, and again, and again—
it’s two cans and a string, no pageantry, no delicacy of uncertainty
LO! the basics!
it’s the pure and simple words + pictures + page =
the beautiful connection of you and me and the long register of ideas rolling out from us across the LIE,
the south shore beaches, the north shore boulevard.
it is the intersection of poet and prisoner, culture creature and uber consumer, rocker and government man.
here, in one place, one island, one unraveling, changeling, expanding work of art,
just like you.
our anniversary issue (this one, the sixth) is also our annual art issue (the fifth)
because art is at our core, from the beginning it’s been where we come from
but also where we’re going—
the painting, the word, the score, the song, all of our seams (mine, yours, the magazine’s, the island’s) teeming with this
again and again.
*Pretty little thing, let me light your candle
‘Cause mama I’m sure hard to handle, now,
*“Hard to Handle,” Otis Redding