I write songs about war and the weather, monks and mountains. I grew up in a barley field under the watchful eye of the rocky mountain front. I've had my own eyes burned by mustard flour and my hands stained by the ink of a newspaper printing press. Now I work forty hours a week making pasta and I attempt to write potent music in my free time. Love, hope, mud and dope. But I'm not safe, only was. ... more