wood wire heart on timothy john weber

a house on fire

Sat, 13 Jun 2026 19:59:00 -0400

I mean, yeah, this house is on fire. But is that new?

it’s time

Sun, 08 Feb 2026 19:21:25 -0500

A friendly voice in a dark place.

back to the beginning

Wed, 06 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

A simple song about a simple but radical feeling.

what you love

Fri, 31 Jan 2025 00:00:00 +0000

This song is written to my better self, the one that shows up and takes things lightly and doesn’t catastrophize and generally acts like an adult.

the days blur together

Tue, 30 Jan 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Big picture, lying in bed.

gone

Mon, 08 Jan 2024 00:00:00 +0000

True story.

far side of the sun

Sun, 15 Jan 2023 17:58:51 -0500

No big deal, just sending the daughter back to college after winter break.

flashes of lightning

Fri, 29 May 2020 00:00:00 +0000

The older I get, the more it all seems like a collection of strobe-lit moments. Do you know what I mean?

every time (your heart breaks)

Fri, 08 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000

On that particular evening, I realized it was time for my heart to break. Again.

rainy sunday afternoon

Sun, 25 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

I improvised this while playing guitar for my daughter as she took her bath.

living downstream

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 00:00:00 +0000

Names, places (Fall Creek, Ithaca, New York in particular), and the flow of this whole story.

wood stove sounds

Tue, 01 Feb 2000 00:00:00 +0000

Thoughts during a meditation retreat. Just because you’re silent doesn’t mean you can’t eat yummy food with your friends.

lakewind

Tue, 02 Jan 1996 00:00:00 +0000

A love poem about a breeze that falls in love with the lake it touches, but is (apparently) unrequited.

roundtrip vigil

Wed, 01 Jul 1987 00:00:00 +0000

I wrote the first verse of this song in an online chat conversation. That may not seem remarkable, but consider that it was in 1987, when only 10,000 computers were on the Internet, before either the World Wide Web or IRC.