Scrimshaw

I recall my first taste of tobacco leaf,
thick was the space with wispy wreaths.

Brisk was the air & biting the night,
as I breathed tainted breath from a scrimshaw pipe.

My lungs filled with smoke & my head was afloat-
     among midnight clouds & ambient sounds
     I began to feel light in my feet.

Set was the scene, sky’s stars serene,
until, eyes closed & full was my nose,
my mind filled with sweet pipe dreams.


-C.Marie

Amidst the Midnight Fog

I sat amidst the midnight fog,
I felt him kiss my face.
He crept through leaves & fallen logs,
leaving traces of his dewy embrace.

I sat amidst the midnight fog,
watching him ghost my world.
He stretched across the air with leisurely yawns,
his secrets he unfurled.

I sat amidst the midnight fog,
tasting his wintry perfume.
He set an icy prologue for
his friend, the waxing moon.

In Decision

Floating, sinking; embryonic.
Time in. Time out.
Time is frozen with me, yet
Time goes on without me.
Peace. Noise. Commotion & calm
In the placenta of my inner thoughts.
Is this the conscience?
Is this the soul?
I decide, I could die here.
Instead, I am reborn.


C.Marie

Hesitation Without a Pause

splotches of light;

floating

orbs of color

the way flash photography leaves eyes

after a picture snapped indoors.

these flickering spots;

fleeting

blinking greens & purples

begin to appear without instigation,

an effect without a cause in daily vision.

brief spheres of ideas manifested;

burst

bubbles of alternate schemes

a hesitation of thought to ponder

possibilities without a pause to wonder.

c.marie

Sunken Treasure

If my body were a ship
wrecked deep beneath the sea
          sunken by lost faith & heartbreak
I could see you swimming

          with the fish

          gliding effortlessly

through the cage of my algae draped ribs
          weathered by aquatic storms
          splintered & saturated
          soaked in sodium
as the waters of time
sop the splinters of adventure
          dreams
          hope
          love
          desire
          freedom
invested in every beam.

Each lapping tide bears new salt
on old wounds,
new tears in old seams;
          sails suspended in animation
          made to look as if consumed
          by a sub-aqueous wind.

The Troubadour: A Place for Craftmanship & Poetry

1:30 AM. 2/10/11. Freshly home from The Troubadour in WeHo. In hand: Tina Dico's hand-written (napkin) setlist. Out of all the music performances I've seen (half of which I don't even have photos from) this was the BEST one- the most emotionally moving, tangibly magical music performance yet.

I got lost (twice) on the way there. On the verge of an anxiety freak-out I was lost in the middle of West Hollywood & bothered with the urge to head home. But instead, I persevered for 45 minutes taking solace in the realization that sometimes getting lost is the best part of a journey (suffice it to say that "getting lost" was enough of a sign for me to find this damn venue given that it's the premise of a Tina Dico song). I was last in line to enter, but still managed to score a spot leaning against an amplifier in front of the stage. However, when I was awaiting the couple in front of me to walk through the venue doors so that I could proceed, a glorious moment took place.

I heard the point of a pair of heels on the vintage sidewalk first before turning around, just thankful that I wasn't THE last person to arrive in line. The doorman asked for the newcomers tickets. I'm certain my lungs forgot to breathe for a split second upon hearing a delicately accented & modest reply of, "I'm with the band". I slowly pivoted (my eyes moved faster than my body) and I glanced at the newcomers behind me, immediately freezing. In an awkward stance with my mouth agape (as if it were trying to speak, but incapable of producing sound), I was gawking & literally speechless. Tina Dico herself had just daintily sauntered up behind me on the sidewalk appearing to have just arrived to the venue from a different [fancier] location. She looked me in the eyes, tilted her head with a grin & slowed in stride, no doubt wondering if whether I would ask for a picture or an autograph. When my mouth still failed to emit my voice, she continued to walk through the door; I entered right after... moving, but still slightly dumbfounded.

Typically, I'm not one to stand motionless in awe of a musician who inspires me when the brief opportunity for conversation arises (or at least a "Thank you for creating the soundtrack of my soul." & a handshake on my part). But in the case of Tina Dico, awe indeed overwhelmed. There I stood, enchanted in the presence of a humble, yet renowned, musician who I've wanted to see live for years. An artist who can translate her feelings into lyrics with beautiful brevity, clever references, & simple-but-intricate guitar melodies, she could leave a listener hypnotized. Drawing inspiration from anything between phobias and longing, Tina Dico is flawless in her musical transcendence attributed with a milky-smooth voice.

The first opener, the witty Helgi Jonsson, is an artist I was looking forward to seeing independent of Sigur Ros. Amazing performance with instruments ranging from guitar, to keyboard, to trombone. Helgi also offers his instrumental talent & disarming harmonies to quite a few Tina Dico tracks (another aspect of this show I was eagerly anticipating!). He broke the ice, so-to-speak, with a story of his first ever shoe-shining experience provided by LAX; he narrated in the tone reminiscent of a boy who's just discovered how big ants look under a magnifying glass before they catch fire. Helgi definitely entertains from start to finish and in between the wild tuning of each songs instrument. He may seem impish, but man can the natives of Iceland belt out a song!

The second opener, Lauren O'Conner, is the personification of "spunk"; short in stature with powerful pipes. Another entertainer, with or without a guitar in hand, that will leave anyone rocking their shoulders & stomping their feet! Great, great, lyrics, powerful presentation, & more vulnerable in her music than her personality will allow in conversation. Brandi Carlile-esque strumming style, Ani Difranco-ish voice, Zack Galifianakis-y humor & demeanor. Overall, she'll blow your mind & leave you thanking her for it.

Around 10:30 or so, Tina Dico floated down the stairs that led from the musicians lounge to the stage, welcomed by fervent applause & cheering. She was nymph-like, but majestic in her movements. She waltzed whimsically around the stage with her guitars, hugging them & singing with them; her body moved fluidly. Her limbs nimbly rose & sank & dipped as a marionette would were it activated by music. Guided by invisible strings of dreamy, & sometimes haunting, lyrics she tip-toed & twirled & bowed & stomped to all eighteen songs she played (including the encore tracks). The show was surreal. It was almost an out-of-body experience; OR such a convergence of internal energy that every sense was on a heightened plane of function. Either way: It. Was. Awesome.

All of it- getting lost, almost running out of gas, coincidentally entering the venue at the same time as the headlining artist, the people, the vibe of The Troubador itself... Awe-some.

"Count To Ten"... video starts unsteady but stabilizes:


"Copenhagen"... featured on Tina Dico's tour tumblr! ( http://tinadico.tumblr.com/ )

Summer on My Mind

Summer is what life should be like- alive and hot and spontaneous and always abuzz (like the cicadas in the peach trees) sticky with midnight sprints, and glowing.

Life should glow, fecund with the energy we share with one another; we should all glow... all little fireflies discovering how to glow through our hot, sticky lives.