Sunday on Main
The Hop Jam Beer and Music Festival
In the fall of 2013, The Hop Jam was still merely an idea. The vision was to create an urban event that celebrated the fusion of craft beer, music and communit...
Brewing Poetry
Life is always just beginning
Jake Miller has been a brewer at Prairie Artisan Ales in Tulsa, Oklahoma; Wolves and People Farmhouse Brewery in Newberg, Oregon; and Saint Somewhere Brewing Company in Tarpon Springs, Florida. Along with Zach and Melissa French, he is a co-founder and brewer at Heirloom Rustic Ales in Tulsa. When he isn’t fermenting, he can be found fly fishing, drinking and reading about weird wines, winning over your dogs, or letting the brewing process guide his poems.
Musings on Subgenre 12/8/17
She said it was spiritual
I said it probably wasn’t
She smiled and looked away
Patient as sunlight on a summer day
Musing on Plains Beer (Batch 2) 1/5/18
In these cluttered corners
Where light only finds the edges
Where secret, tale, and tradition
Get weaved into family portraits
Weather and season oscillates
As you fully embrace adolescence
It has not been easy for either of us
I know I spend too much time looking over your shoulder
Cobwebs on oak barrel #7
You made your bed in the woods
You climbed into the last of the oaks
You chased the sun to sleep
Your legs could outrun horizons
I wonder if we knew
That you would build such fine cathedrals
You’ve been tucked away for so long
Such a quiet tenant you’ve been
Musings on Dream Theater 1/7/18
We pruned our decades into years
Like accordions holding oceans
We bend and contract under the weight
But we will wait until you look away
Swelling barrels 1/15/18
Your wooden bones will last just as long as mine
We will both hold things, for too long and too short
We will be both, forgotten and too tended to
Emptied and filled. Emptied and filled.
There never was a halfway
Musings on Landbier 1/28/18
Tumultuous you came
Frothing and violent, but also whimpering
And the middle was worse, quiet and insolent Cocoon. Rest.
Wings are always given in the final stage
Brew day 2/1/18
I listened while you spoke
All flint and covered in stone
Your roots and slept in Jurassic
I watched your fruit like sunrise and sunset
Musings on Kvass 2/12/18
You fell like low tide
Leisured and unhurried, but still persistent
here was a desert under your skin
And you came back to collect it again
The moon waned
You, his favorite marionette Conceded but still roared
Life is always just beginning.
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