Another one of those unexpected CDs came my way in late winter of 1996; Camilla. An eerie, yearning meditation on the ache of loving a stranger — or wanting to. Foolishness in the extreme? Wisdom deeper than knowing? Hard to tell.
Until the astonishing final stanza, when the lover’s burning hope warps time itself. Is it possible, he wonders, that if we try hard we can see/the view from where we’ll someday be?
And indeed, tonight, I look back on 24 years of that someday-life saturated with the phantasms that were conjured by that hopeful, extraordinary poet one dark winter night so long ago.
I asked him if this was something left over from the Whack days. No, he said, just something I’ve been working on. And there is another snippet from that same CD that I’ll post soon. But now, the evening of Nov 2, 2020, stomach churning, mind disquiet, I’m logging off for a while. My only thought is if our Republic can hold together in the days and months ahead.