There’s a little roadhouse on hwy 54 outside Chapel Hill NC that’s been there since I was a kid, the kind of place my mom would be scared to go into. You’d see a couple motorcycles outside. A neon sign. A dude smoking on the porch.


A few years ago, my old friends Kirk and Jody took it over and called it The Kraken. They planted flowers. They put up a sculpture of the mythical sea creature. They started inviting local and nationally touring musicians to play there.


The Kraken has become a destination for music out here in the sticks. I’ve been discussing a residency with Kirk, and we’ve finally settled it. Starting January 10th, Johnny and I will play from 7-10pm every Wednesday at The Kraken on Highway 54. We’ll play songs we’ve never played on stage before, songs from old records, and songs by friends like Corin Raymond and Anais Mitchell. We'll have special guests- in fact, we’ve already lined up Armand Lenchek, Kyshona Armstrong, and Korby Lenker for Jan 17th, and Jess Klein for January 24th. 


We’re excited to have a place to try new things and connect with our neighbors every week. We’ll begin on the 10th with three hours of material that has rarely, if ever, been on stage before. Of course we’ll throw in some favorites too. Come have a drink with us. Tell your friends! Check the Kraken out online at and on Facebook at


Your fan, 





Wind Wild and Weather Wet


Was a wolf in the woods

wind wild and weather wet

its eyes and mine met 

the wild world and not wild world

She the wolf and I the dog

She the weed and I the crop

The disadvantage mine

if left fending in the fallow


But what wild thing can wield

a not wild thing, wound to the whim

of its winder, this wild world

and all the gaping maw of nothing

not wild at all, that, the void obeys

the one rule to be all that is not

while Earth crawls like a beast

this blackened plain and barren

stretching its chain and straining

vainly as the not wild things

strain against their wildness

But wildness will have them

and find them one thing


The hearts of men and women

In linens and skins skimming

wilderness and weirding the wild

The feral born bewildered

Wild and not wild and weaned

Teary eyed torn from the wild

Weaponized and worn down

like bluestem under the wind


The cosmic wind wild as winter

Whereon fishermen ride the whim

Of water wishing they were home

Or better rich and wistful, fists full

of women and dogs not wolves

whereas that is what is wild

And not wild. The beast that crawls

to its master to burn its flank

on the hearth. Earth, the wolf,

turns ever from fire and yet

circles it, wind wild and weather wet




If you like this poem, you’ll love ‘You’ve Changed,’ my new book of poetry beautifully designed by Jon Dixon in New Orleans. Order it here: