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Best of WNC 2013

Best of WNC 2013:
Local Singer/Songwriter & Acoustic Folk

Archive for February, 2015

The Toll of February

Posted on: February 26th, 2015 by Jeff Thompson No Comments

“The Toll of February”

God Almighty, these hours are beautiful,

With these wet yards almost dutifully


In their prescient display

Of colors bordering on May,

Japanese magnolia petals floating towards broadest day

In the crepuscular fountains of February,

The very air unfair in its devil-may-care denial

Of my other home, on trial

For geographic crimes.

The church bell chimes twelve hours past noon,

And the balloon of its speech

Floats far out of reach

Of Asheville ears.

And the sum of my fears is this:

That time has no use for me.

That my substance is transiency.

And the phrase “my other home”

Takes on a far more plaintive tone

When I hum it to the drone

Of that bell’s toll.

But, God Almighty, these flowers are beautiful.


What I Know About you Just from Looking at Your Face

Posted on: February 21st, 2015 by Jeff Thompson No Comments

Don’t tell me about race,

Cause I don’t know what it is.

(Allow me to back up.

That was a lie. Biggest one ever told.)

Truth: I had race rubbed into my face

Like shoe shine

Before I was old

Enough to wear shoes.

I knew my skin color soon after I knew my name.

I believed in that lie before I knew how to feel shame.

I promise, I come in peace.

No, I don’t. That’s a lie, too.

I don’t even know what it would mean for that to be true.

I don’t know how to part my lips

To speak

Without somehow violating you.

Every act is violent.

Even to remain silent

Is to commit a crime

Against what pleads to be spoken.

But somehow sometimes

The spell is broken.

Something shines

In your face that I recognize

As the brilliant child who plays behind your eyes.

And for a moment…

We stand dehypnotized.


#soulonola achoo

Sacred Soul of New Orleans

Posted on: February 11th, 2015 by Jeff Thompson No Comments

Bless me with the magic flower

Of music through the streets.

Turn it into jambalaya

That the soul can eat.

Though I’ll never know

what all this messy madness means,

Bless the sacred soul of New Orleans

Stroke me with your rhythms

like a cat tongue on my hand

Let me feel the deeper pulse that’s

Beating through the band.

Throw me to the angels

In their purples, golds, and greens.

Bless the sacred soul of New Orleans.


#soulonola Bless The Sacred Heart of New Orleans

The Audrey Hepburn Thing

Posted on: February 6th, 2015 by Jeff Thompson No Comments

She dreams in rainbows, just outside her head,

And wraps herself in coats that look like cats.

You didn’t hear a word that she just said,

But, luckily, she doesn’t notice that.

Of course, she’s heard the Audrey Hepburn thing

So many times, it must be a cliché.

But as you try to think of other things

To say, you slip and say it anyway.

The bus arrives, she smooths her skirt and smirks

And nods her head as if to say goodbye.

You don’t know where she lives or where she works.

You didn’t get her number. Didn’t try.

The bus pulls into traffic, and you stand,

And fill your pockets up with your own hands.