The Omaha Music Scene

Omaha, NE, where I basically hail from and where I lived for a number of years, has a very vibrant music scene. That includes the indie rock movement of the 90's through today, plus active jazz and blues venues.

Any town along the Missouri or Mississippi rivers is likely to have such.

This is a poem written about the river and the railroad and the town - and transcience, like childhood or other drifting things. Originally published at Texas A & M:

Porch Front Blues

I can see

Peonies break their crowns

on the sidewalk in summer -

no longer the leonine orbs remembered

of childhood.

The city is a tumbleweed

that looks as if it will blow

down river, south, twards Texas.

Even the new green is a ruse,

hiding bits of garbage

and tanned old men who gather behind

the house to drink vodka

and sleep, wrapped lossely in their skins.

Transients migrate north

in summer. I have heard them

talk shop in the library steps -

say Nebraska is a nice place to be

when the weather is good, but

cold as stone in winter.

I have seen them sleeping

free as new released birds

in the library chairs

face east toward the riverfront

windows a sky

made of glass and clouds -

all part of their vision.

Today, air blows hot

a bubble of heat

quivering over buildings that have stood

one-hundred years

painted old men of the prairie

their structures sound,

but wrinkling a little.

I guess it is all just snapshots

we hold for ourselves -

The ideas we have of people and places

shut out the rest easily

drive by, drive through -

the cracking streets,

so clean through car windows,

plastic bags blowing in the wind -

new flowers.