FOR FATHER’S DAY … AN IMAGINED TRIP ROUND DYLAN AND JAKOB, BY ERIC LASTICK
DYLAN AND SON, JAKOB…LETTERS OF THE RED JACK PINES THIS FATHER’S DAY. IN FULL FAMILY ARTISAN… In a real wind whirl minded Dylan basement avenue of guitar awakenings; Dad lays down all his rhythms and yarns—- wishful a Father’s Day holiday session of Bob and son, Jakob on Strat and old’ telecaster guitar.
A guided and gilded pair of eyes of Dad’s portrait painting of his son, framed and displayed of all good fellowship on the wall. Wallflower and roadie roundup to usher of the ride…form an avenue to the grand pianos of time.
Right round the dusty basement and cobweb of ‘’The Saturday Evening Post’’ A single little Lionel toy train near the corner liquor bar. Red jack pines sway and whistle these Min with the Minnesota winds… Roadie rally of the flags of course, band and structure. Tonight, a roast on a fine dine table for every hero that recipes the sound of Dylan’s footprints and these atmospheric blends of a certain and fine homecoming.
Dad’s tastes of the west coastal ocean waves of the great surf of the free. Poetic be of the pipeline. Photos to the bottom of the sea of dreams…and those that come true. Jakob old’ son, the Minnesota weather certainly will cheer you… and of your effects of home. Midnight never short of an acoustic blend of old and young. Father knows best when it comes to the most important life answers; yet you have already got the questions in lyric… and all the precocious ways to go far. Dad must be proud, as the wallflower rebound of these harmonic planes.
Jakob, with a journey’s pond of the well-fills—-Minnesota ice fish. Wows in all dad’s difference in age…yet we all see and feel the bite, the bitter salt… and the moves of steers of all those roads well guided. Well lifted. In the clearing reflect of the concise patterns of sing and in step—-as if of like minds.
And of both your fans…your writes…your riches are really of the passion of what you hear and what you play.
Embryonic basks too every new dawn you levin—-like a token to all those rows and carpeted across the silver screens. Hop along Cassidy. Share a father and son. One in which you’ve surely have seen… and hopefully together. So, dream steady aback—-to seat us all in your memories of a baby car seat. A safe retreat——straight up Catskill mountains. Overstretch little baby Jakob’s curious eyes of the look about of brown bear. The wonders of a father. Son to teach so much. So noticeably young of the dancing bear act…the circus comes to mind, the love and gift of thinking young. The forever nights of childhood perceptions. The speed of time as we grow old. Now a rest by a cool night and cozy fire; letters of the red jack pines this Father’s Day, you send …
WHO IS ERIC LASTICK?
Eric Lastick is a strange man. He looks lived in, like an old rooming house knocked out and loaded from the inside.
He’s spent his life inside this badly-built walk-on-stilts high-rise of rooms called things like Hope, Aspiration, Dream…
… and still, today, he stares from his rain-melting ancient windows into glistening streets and memories.
Eric Lastick was born in Zurich but never became a gnome… instead he went looking for a place to stay in Pennsylvania, a city built on handmade pretzels, whoopie pies and cheesesteaks
Personally, I’ve never been to Pennsylvania. And doubt I ever will, I have more of a New York state of mind, an Elvis poster across the grey-ness of the days, Minnesota moan and an Iron Range resolve.
But Eric is living in Pennsylvania in his rooming-house mind.
And he is writing in there all the time.
It’s as if there comes a knock at the door, the rent man and Eric’s jailer are standing in the rain. an old railway sign in their hand.
Eric drops a poem into a cup…
Here Eric Lastick writes three short pieces on Dylan, analysing the ways of life that made little Bob Zimmerman what he is today.
Thank you for shining Eric.
#bobdylan #jakobdylan #foreveryoung #protectmychild #fathersday
