Welcome

Dunno why, oh just daydreaming, about a place, somewhere down on the Lower East Side, oh not as it is now all gentrified, but as it was back then, any time back then, seedy and honest in its humanity, the good and the bad.

And a place, a big kinda space, with a kitchenette to make food and everyone is welcome, but the guests are poor, the winos and the bums, the misfits and the downtrodden, they are the guests and they find a friend here, and there's music, too, a whole big corner stage with instruments already there to be picked up and played, there's old time gospel music sung by wounded hearts, there's jazz and country, and everyone is fed.

And I know everyone there by first name and they know me, I run the place, see ... and I'm no sap, just a hard worker, making good food and a good space for all this joyous sound and fellowship, no expectations or judgments, just gathering for nourishment, body and soul.

Walk in the door, you are welcome, you will hear music that is real and without artifice, join in conversation that is plain as fresh bread, see the sad beat faces of humanity, hear their stories and tell a few of your own.

And oh my indulgence, yes, to get up and sing every now and then, or tell a poem, not for any audience, but just part of the day's work, no matter who is there, long as there's someone to play the horn or beat the drum or plonk on the piano, oh that is what I see, when I'm daydreaming, such a place, a fine place.