RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Thursday, May 16

SONG OF THE DAY: Pocket Full of Stones

Had a chance to wander the woods near where I lived for the previous 20 but not the past year recently, and made me sad I missed the early spring popping of all the quartz pushed out the ground by cold frozen weather – a fresh crop of sharp powerful stones, same stuff used back in the days in these parts for tools and arrowheads. One time where the goat pen was on the land I used to live, they’d dug up an arrowhead. Got kinda afflicted with rockhound thoughts over the years wandering those woods on a quartz vein, where this one or that one would call me, want to come with, get stacked somewhere else. Sometimes I’d reach down and they wouldn’t let go of the ground and I’d be like “aight stone, you can stay where you want to be” and I’d let it go. I’ve got little piles of quartz everywhere where I used to live, everywhere where I walk now, in my apartment, trunk of my car, secret corners here or there – any time I go in the woods, whether cargo shorts or track pants, my pocket gets full up with stones that wanna go for a trip to somewhere else, and I put them together in little congresses, stacks of white trash quartz making noise in a pile, unified voices looming larger than individually libertied ones not wanting to be tread upon.
But whenever my silly tromping ass gets out in the woods (never lost – no grid out there to be lost from, just keep wandering, you’ll hit a creek or river or ugh development at some point) and I end up having all these rocks calling out to me, hitchhiking to a different location, circulating the power of lounge as charged by universal magnetics, getting weighted down slowly, even used to have a rucksack just for these purposes, I’d inevitably hear Pimp C’s slurring syrupy Texas drawl going “I got a pocket full of stonnnneeeeesssszzzzzzz” and that usually means I start freestyling heart scripture gibberish, which luckily out there in the woods is not gibberish at all but perfectly beautiful in its unscripted unedited unthunk-about-with-educated brain state. “I got a pocket full of stoonnnnnnneeeeeesssszzzzzzzzz…” alhamdulillah.

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