The Staff

- by Linn Barnes

The Staff
-Linn Barnes

Today I made a staff
a grand mosaic staff

for strutting around 
with no one around

dreaming of parted seas
and swarms of insects

as if with this new weapon
I now govern the flow

of the virus on my land
now a safe haven

since me and my staff
are now in charge

but even if I’m wrong
is there a glimmer that

I’m not or at least
that I’m competing

with the best theories 
in a land where we

really have no idea
what we’re dealing with

as each day brings more
sad evidence to the

proposition that we are
bumbling toward

a cliff of great sorrow
to the bottom of nowhere

The Glance

- by Linn Barnes

The Glance
-Linn Barnes

One glance
do you mean me

do I not glimmer shine
and grace the treetops

where the blue birds collide
with the shadow of the earth

which sprinkles its grace
upon the long notes

shimmering and delivering
fuel upon the pyre of the

dead soon to come waltzing 
into the realm of eternity

do you not see that I 
am among you


- by Linn Barnes

-Linn Barnes

looks like mikey might walk
which really chaps and grates

he is such a worthless fraud
traitor liar and grim faced fool

that he’s really not worth a second 
glance on a rainy day of sky-diving frogs

into a carbon heap of crippled
dying scorpions carrying twenty five

tons of canova cocktail into
the oval office posing as beluga

on hamburger rolls with plenty 
of catch up on the side

no this man should be of 
no interest to anybody

as long as he remains
where he so justly belongs

where it’s dark as a dungeon 
and damp as the dew

where the rain never falls 
and the sun never shines

until this bastard has 
rightly served his time

The Hill

- by Linn Barnes

The Hill

It’s been raining in the Blue Ridge,
pouring down the gutters on the house,

and crashing on the metal roof 
of my studio on the wooded hill

which I kind of like when 
I play either guitar, mandolin

or fiddle all cranked up 
and bent by Dali-esque reverbs

into landscapes sparked with sound, 
maddening fury and delight, while

eagles savage the river below me,
stamping deer trample all about me,

even an occasional black bear 
peering into my large window

on the east from all the many trails below
and about me where life lives and processes

endlessly to unknown rhythms and dark cadences
illuminating with the light pouring in from the east

the glory or despair of my chosen time 
here in solitude on the hill in my dreams.


- by Linn Barnes

-Linn Barnes

Today, toward dusk, a bear approached me
and announced that he was a griz,

which I took issue with, knowing 
full well that we only have black bears

in these parts, but he was not thwarted, 
and threatened to do the griz thing on me

if I didn’t re-consider my original observation,
to wit I replied, I would run him through

with my sword, a medieval relic I sometimes
carry about on the land we own and

carefully care for, which brings me into 
a primal understanding of what and

where I am, and, surprise of surprises,
the foolish, fraud griz turned tail

and slunk off into the evening light,
clearing the Spring evening glow

of the stench of lies and fraud,
dumped untowardly in my path, 

and the light shown soft and green
before my happy eyes grinning softly,

as I sheathed the silver blade.

The Battle

- by Linn Barnes

The Battle
-Linn Barnes

So when death came dancing prancing 
down the greening lane into the hearts
of all who stood and cheered the

rising light before the grim shadow 
dropped into the dead ditch of every 
hope and every despair rose high

into the cloud of bleak nowhere
with the fumes and clouds of
toxic ruin falling tumbling into the

water the land and our very beings
stood shaken and bewildered 
and no one spoke anything like

the truth much less the solution
so when all this fell upon us
and we gasped and blinked

gagging on the horror bounced
into the putrid core of us all 
we have stood and we stand

stooped shaken mute 
horrified and enraged
yet willing to engage the battle.

Quarantined with the Lowdown Blues

- by Linn Barnes

Slidin' down the Delta IV

- by Linn Barnes

Banjo musings in open G

- by Linn Barnes

Slidin' down the Delta III

- by Linn Barnes

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