it’s like butter melting into brown sugar or like listening to hendrix play little wing or hearing hope return to the voice of a friend or looking at an ellen andreassen painting or hearing my second youngest deliver a poem at a fundraiser for northern dene and metis trappers or smelling raspberries on a summer stroll or scrolling the photography of mi vida landscapes or the pinhole photography of wenda salomons or hanging out at bleeding heart art space or reading the poem listen by michael gravel or like playing with eliza or like all those other things I’d love to list that are now firing in my mind like the slow crescendo joy wail of john lennon in the song we all shine on it’s when the door opens here in the low-level bunker of credo coffee on 124 street and I feel the heat of the sun on my face here in the brittle days of february and see faith flicker alive like light from an old projector through the first frame of celluloid on the the cold walls of these concrete buildings and I can’t wait for the door to open again for one more person to come through for one more opening of the door before the sun moves west behind the cinder blocks and crosby stills and nash finish singing helplessly hoping and all these songs end because as morrison says we were born before the wind and we are younger than the sun and sooner or later after everything is said that is worth saying we’ll sail into the mystic
ellen andreassen art
Your writing just helps me breathe.
The greatest of all these is the joy and your words take us there with you. Thank you!!
into the mystic … what a great song.
always love your words, mr. berg.
and these are a few of my favourite things…
Thank you Joyce!
You are very kind Ellen, and thank you for letting me post your paintings!
Lianne, …and I always like the way you call me mr. berg. 🙂 Thank you, and so happy you like a song from an album I bought in 1973.
Thanks for your response techne!
The mystic harmony in your text provides soul to your selection of musicians and painters. My morning low has melted into the joy of song and art like watching butter melt into brown sugar.
it’s an honor to share, if from afar, in life’s journey… your words, always a gift.
humbly, a
Ahh the music ….
Thanks for those words Raymond!
Thank you Adela!
Thought you’d like the music Sam.
Thanks for the shout-out, Stephen. I’m touched to be mentioned here, and in such good company.
You’re welcome Wenda. You’re always included.