Feed Me a Line: Andrew Stonestreet of Greylag

Editor’s Note: One of our talented photographers, Megan Kumakura, has an incredible knack for chatter. What I mean is, she sits down near any one person and she creates an instant bond and friendship that puts them at ease and opens them up. It’s a gift that we’re lucky enough to incorporate into a slew of posts, most of which were in the form of interviews from last year’s Sasquatch coverage. She’s come up with a little series, of which this is the first, where she sits down with a band or musician and creates a poem… one line written by her, the next by her guest. There are already several waiting to be posted and we’re excited to start it off with Andrew from Greylag. Megan’s contributions are italicized.

Under the influence of whiskey at The Crocodile in Seattle…

There once was a man
who loved himself some whiskey
You could trace the lines on his face
He had with her some tasty history
With years on the front porch
drinkin’ her down into his spine
Her body imprinted on the blanket beside him
F-I-N-E, fine
The air is crisp and the moon is low
She’s creepin’ in and coming slow
With a knot in his gut and a cigarette in hand
He’s good to go – all rest, no plans

Andrew looks at me.  “How do you know when it’s done?”
“It looks pretty done to me.”
“Me too….oh wait.”

“Y   U   M” he adds to the end of the page.



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