Personal ambition: Have my own style of music.
See my mother again.—Jimi Hendrix, in a survey
for the UK publication New Musical Express
A psychedelic voodoo priest sacrificing still-humming heartstrings on a pyre demanding god   fire like that burns too bright too fast never lasts         except in memory         Can you see your mother?     So young she was and you           splintered     like your guitar chasing      fire         burning your throat like a scream shot      memory         The memorial—your father gave a shot of whiskey said this is how men deal         men burn down ashes to ashes           are all ash and hurt Your father like my father said             I guess you just a child can’t let go of what’s past         I don’t owe you Listen heart crackle   fire       sparks on train tracks rushing         Mama’s body cold barely four months and he thinks to marry            This is how men deal You learned too well                  pour another round turn ashes to smoke   forget   this cold   inheritance                                                                                                            



How Men Deal


Photo Untitled by David Wright used under Creative Commons License (BY-NC-ND-2.0)