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Category: Music

POEM: You Can Play A Shoestring If You’re Sincere

Published 7 April 2026 by Fievel

You Can Play A Shoestring If You’re Sincere
for Kittie Cooper

Or a sewing machine, as it turns out.
You can stick two contact mics on a Singer
and go to town, letting the feedback wail
as the crunchy needle sounds distort
through one of the many barefoot pedals.
One light bulb shines
through the holes in the paper
as it travels, threadless, through the machine.
The audience marvels like believers
watching a miracle.
If only Isaac were here
to see what he had (unintentionally) wrought.

/ / /

7 April 2026
Charlottesville VA

NOTE: The title of this poem is a quote from John Coltrane.

Day 7 of National Poetry Month.

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POEM: Modern Love

Published 1 April 2026 by Fievel

Modern Love

David Bowie looks better in his mug shot
than most of us do when we go out on the town.
Then again, he doesn’t believe in modern love
so maybe that helps. Or helped. Of course.

It puts my trust in God and man, he said.
I don’t particularly believe in either of those
but if it had to stake it all on one or the other
I’d give homo sapiens a better chance

of fixing the cracks in the wall, the holes in the dam,
of pushing back the darkness we’ve created.
Not a particularly good chance,
just a better one than God.

The song has changed on the radio.
Time has come today.
Nobody’s coming to help us.
And Dave has left the building.

/ / /

1 April 2026
Charlottesville VA

Day 1 of National Poetry Month 2026

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Mental Health Day Haibun

Published 30 January 2026 by Fievel

Mental Health Day Haibun

There are moments — like right now when I’m drinking Earl Grey tea and reading Bao Phi’s poetry and listening to a young cellist play Enescu on the local classical station — when I can almost see what contentment looks like.

scrape of cello
over smashing ice
post-storm symphony

/ / /

30 January 2026
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Humoresque

Published 6 January 2026 by Fievel

Humoresque

Sometimes I see people in old movies
and I’m jealous that they’re surely dead by now.
They did it. They made it through.
Whatever was going to happen to them happened.
It either killed them or it didn’t. Eventually it did.

The two middle-aged music instructors,
just now entering a classroom in a movie from 1946 —
they’ve been gone for decades.
They died before the internet, before smart phones,
before social media, before the climate catastrophe.

Now sure, they died before a lot of good stuff, too.
The world getting better for people who looked different
than every single cast member in this film, for instance.
But the point is they just don’t have to worry about it anymore.
And I still do.

/ / /

6 January 2026
Charlottesville VA

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I’ve got a new album!

Published 29 September 2025 by Fievel

Several years ago, I released a few poetry and music tracks via Adam Gnade’s label Hello America Stereo Cassette. Ever since, I’ve wanted to make an album of my poetry with (mostly) other people’s music. This past Tuesday, I decided to just do it. I emailed a dozen musicians and asked if they’d each send me two minutes of music by Friday. Ten of them did. I set myself the restriction of making the entire album between when I awoke on Saturday and when I went to bed on Sunday. This album is the result.

This is a pay-what-you-want album. Any and all money received will go to Ele Elna Elak, an organization that provides drinking water and education to children in Gaza displaced by Israel’s ongoing genocide. Neither I nor any musician on this album will make any money from it. So when you’re setting your price, keep that in mind. Thank you.

If you’d like to donate to them directly and cut out the middle-mouse, you’ll find them at eleelnaelak.org. If you donate directly, I’d love to know. Drop a line to fievel42@pm.me.

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POEM: Miserere

Published 17 June 2025 by Fievel

Miserere

In the background of this poem:
Allegri’s Miserere.
The soft singing of five voices,
turned down too low to hear clearly.

Moments ago in a book
I learned of the existence of this piece,
stolen by Mozart’s brain from the Vatican;
transcribed and given to all of us

in a courageous act of defiance,
or perhaps just a thumbing of the nose
at the cassocked voices of denial.

Now coming through a USB speaker
attached by light waves to a laptop
and, as has been previously stated,
turned down too low to appreciate.

We shrink our miracles
until they no longer scare us.

/ / /

16 June 2025
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: in the air (Wed 1:23 PM)

Published 7 May 2025 by Fievel

in the air (Wed 1:23 PM)

a cardinal, who then swoops
low over the grass

smoke from two sticks of Japanese incense
burning in an ash-filled Mason jar

the sound of Scott Robinson’s bari sax
with the New Art Orchestra

two little brown birds (maybe house sparrows)
heading for the empty feeders

a mid-sized jet
bound for Charlotte NC

the voice of a work at the perpetually
under-construction house next door

birdsong
so much birdsong

a truck engine
on the busy road nearby

one slowly descending maple leaf

a sense of anticipation

oh, and a hawk

/ / /

7 May 2025
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: abracadabra

Published 16 April 2025 by Fievel

abracadabra

no matter how many times I hear
the magic trick that was Art Tatum
I can never figure out how he did it
how his mind leapt as if he’d never
heard of the law of gravity
how his fingers found all those keys
with no eyes to guide them
how he took songs everybody knew
and blasted them into a million
glittering jewels of sound
he had an arm up each sleeve
with miraculous hands at the ends
here I sit, mouth open in wonder
grateful just to listen

/ / /

14 April 2025
Charlottesville VA

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haibun: 12 April 2025

Published 13 April 2025 by Fievel

Black Saint Billy Harper is wailing 40-something years ago in some other city but tonight he’s filling the air in our bedroom in Charlottesville because earlier today at Melody supreme his record was on the wall and I remembered that time I interviewed him and his voice was so rich and resonant that it put mine to shame and that was already so long ago that I recall only impressions (not the Coltrane tune) and wow! this band is killing.

five decades
collapsed in an instant
black metaltail hummingbird

/ / /

12 April 2025
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Fred Astaire’s Sister

Published 25 March 2025 by Fievel

Fred Astaire’s Sister

The crossword puzzle book –
which, let’s be honest,
is already a pretty old place to start –
has a clue asking for the name
of Fred Astaire’s sister.
As I pencil in ADELE,
I get that cozy feeling
that comes from a warm fire
on a snowy day
with an old movie playing.
There’s something oddly comforting
about knowing Fred’s sister’s name,
as there is about knowing Fred himself.
I was born in the era of record players
housed in credenzas, grew up
in the era of cassette tapes and then CDs,
and watched my kids come of age
at a time when every song ever recorded
is available at the touch of a pretend button.
But now it’s Sunday afternoon,
I’m listening to Horowitz on vinyl,
penciling in the name
of Fred Astaire’s sister,
and happy to be spanning the ages
with my wonder still intact.

/ / /

25 March 2025
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Turns Out I’m Not Famous

Published 12 March 2025 by Fievel

Turns Out I’m Not Famous

I’m waiting to talk to another musician,
here at the lowest level of radio.
How many times have I done this?
Two thousand? Three thousand?
I used to think I’d be on the other end,
part of some arena-filling band
that all the DJs wanted to talk to.
It hasn’t worked out that way,
and other than the blues guys
who were rediscovered
by eager white record collectors,
not that many musicians start
a successful career in their 50s.
I’m more of the eager white type
than the neglected blues legend type,
so I guess I’ll keep my day job,
waiting here for another interview
with another rock musician.

/ / /

12 March 2025
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: the eighties

Published 28 February 2025 by Fievel

the eighties

we listened to Pink Floyd & Rush
Genesis & Yes & King Crimson
Marillion & a-ha & Depeche Mode

we watched Monty Python
& Robin Williams & Red Dwarf
& Big Trouble In Little China

we ordered pizza
bought snacks at Wegmans
stopped at Perkins in the wee hours

we read Watchmen & The Dark Knight Returns
The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy
The Chronicles Of Amber & Tolkien

we played in the marching band
we played in the wind ensemble
we (some of us) played in a rock band

we planned to go to college
we planned to never get married
we couldn’t imagine having kids

we’re not all around anymore
most of us are parents now
most of the rest of it is the same

/ / /

28 February 2025
Charlottesville VA

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POEM: Circle Pit

Published 22 February 2025 by Fievel

Circle Pit

We’re packed into L’Anti Bar
while Crachat slams into their last song.
They’re wild, ferocious, loud, glorious.
A room full of hometown fans
jump and smash and sing along.
Then it’s over. During the break
two locals talk to me in English.
They want to know why I’m here
in Québec for a punk show.
They recommend bands and a cool bar
for the after-party, not knowing
I’ll be in bed as soon as the next band is done.
Stephanie and I get closer to the stage.
It’s time for Taxi Girls, the reason we added
hours of extra driving to an already long trip.
They rip into the first song,
leave claw marks on the crowd.
Stephanie weaves even closer,
phone camera as talisman.
I hold our coats, sleeves stuffed with
festival t-shirts, keffiyehs, our hats.
The band starts “The Lion’s Share.”
We belt out the words. I play air guitar
under the coats. Nerd to the core.
After the show we chat with the band,
buy records, get them signed,
walk to our rented apartment
through the frigid night,
slowing down to photograph
queer anarchist graffiti
because we’re queer anarchists.
La musique punk est
le langage universel
de la révolution.

21 February 2025
Québec

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