Dearest Crew of Brattleboro and Visitors from near and far,
announcing the fiesty and melody-filled tunes of your favorite local-yokel-yodelessquie, Anita Lorraine, while local is still an appropriate description!

That’s right, this is going to be my last show in beloved Brattleboro for a long while and I’d be honored and touched (literally?) by your company….

Please join us and send me off proper fashion. Sit down a’while, take your pants off, relax, have one of Metropolis’ own Hot ‘N Stormy cocktails…. it’s delicious and refreshing…

(PS: please do bring your friends, and forward to others!)

Sitting in the afternoon heat

I realize I must be

Crazy or spoiled, one.

‘Cause up here, for a while, the heat’s much more fun.

No sweaty drips post shower or swim

that come from moisture deep within

Humidity that sits you down

or makes you nap and wear a frown.

Vermont has heat, that is for sure

but it’s not like Carolina yet, where heat is a blinding blur.

It comes off the Louisiana road, it seeps in the cracks

it takes up all the room in Georgia, kickin’ you out on the grass.

The heat tells a story and if you lack sleep you know,

the duppies sing songs and walk their tracks aglow.

They sing of times gone by, when heat was just an element

not a earth tyrant, egged on by political petroleum.

We see it coming with our eyes wide open, 

Sun Dance of the Cheyenne, sending prayers to the great Unknown.

All some continue to do: consume and wait,

to see what kind of damage we have done.

Some don’t believe there is change afoot.

I feel it creeping, greater and deeper and pressing inside.

The change of climate, senses, spirit, and what we all decide to put,

is boiling at the Heart of Mother’s Eyes.

We can sing and pray and dance,

prepare in the best ways we know how.

And we must stand up and fight against the chosen ignorance,

consuming hatred of life right now.


Our work must not be exclusive however,

for all Life will bear the sorrow,

of the forgotten beauty of this existence,

when all that is here is gone tomorrow.



When the secret players of greed and monopoly come out from the shadows and we don’t immediately put them to task for injustices, we are hanging ourselves by our ignorance and cowardice.  The hooks of reality are scalpal sharp, but the compassion of justice heals wounds like no other poultice.  If we can collectively rebound from this silenced mass we have become, realizing that we are all still bleeding red and by encouraging one another to be respectful, steadfast,  honest, and hard-working humans, we can demand our rights as living, breathing creatures on this Earth together.  We can share the responsibility of our social, political, environmental, and spiritual needs.  We can honor and respect the gift of life we have all been given by standing up for ourselves, creating a real democracy out of a broken republic.  Creating a world not run by domination but by grace, a world run by goodness not greed, a world embracing differences, not demonizing them, and a world that understands and knows its history, instead of burying it, changing it, and casting it alongside the shadows.  Our existence depends upon us learning from our collective experience, embracing the times when we fall and encouraging the times we get back up again.