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There's something about artist R.B. Morris that's a bit disconcerting to some people.

He's friendly enough — quick with a handshake and more than willing to engage in conversation. He's not aloof, or arrogant — some might even describe him as charming.

But there's something in that world-weary gaze of his, that piercing stare that seems to look into the darkened recesses of the heart and take stock of what's there, that makes some people a little nervous. Combined with a flair for the dramatic when he takes the stage — an incendiary poetry reading as the opening act for musician Leon Redbone last month at The Bijou Theatre ended with Morris ripping pages from his new book of poems, "Early Fires" — and you get the idea that Morris is unpredictable.

Quirky. Loony, perhaps. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, since it can be argued that many great artists went through life with a touch of madness.

"It's a real struggle, every living day of my life to keep the wolves away from the door," Morris told The Daily Times this week. "Artistically, people treat me generally nice, and they seem to enjoy my work, but there's no evidence that many people look very closely into it. Nobody's ever reviewed my work, for instance. But poetry's a tough one for this fast-moving culture, and it's not just a given that they connect with what I'm doing.

"And maybe that's OK; maybe it doesn't get any better than that. Everybody would like to have a huge house and all adoring fans — that seems to be the quest for everybody, and I admit to wishing I could get a little more of that sometimes. When you decide to be an artist when you're young, it's a very romantic thing. You look at books with all of the masters and how they're celebrated through the ages, but when you get down to the life of it, it's a little different. You have to take some gratification just out of shaking things up and looking out at people with their eyes crossed and their brows knitted, wondering what the hell you're about.

"If it makes them think and wonder, you've done part of the job," Morris added. "I would rather present songs and poems and mixtures of both that make people consider them rather than just punching the buttons that are comfort for them. I don't want to be just a cowboy act or something that is easily classified or categorized."

Morris has long defied categorization. Even he admits that his body of work — poetry, stage plays, several albums worth of singer-songwriter driven folk and blues-rock — leaves many confounded as to how, exactly, to pin him down. There are a lot of labels that fit — from hard-drinking roustabout to scholarly writer-in-residence at the University of Tennessee (a position he currently occupies) to collaborator of some of the best musicians, known and unknown, in Knoxville and beyond.

Many East Tennesseans may have a passing knowledge of Morris as a musician, but most don't realize just how much he's respected by his peers. Singer-songwriter Lucinda Williams calls him "the greatest unknown songwriter in the country," and country-rock maverick Steve Earle says Morris "is the reason I started writing poetry."

Born at Fort Sanders, Morris has always made Knoxville his home, despite his occasional wanderings. He's spent time in San Francisco, collaborating with the biographer of Jack Kerouac, and in Knoxville he's taken up the cause of celebrating and clamoring for the recognition of Agee, Knoxville writer-extraordinaire who penned "A Death in the Family."

His concerts are as hard to categorize as his music. His songwriting, and his spoken-word poetry, is starkly beautiful and haunting, and his solo acoustic shows usually hold audiences spellbound. There's a melancholy sadness to his acoustic songs, and a shot of adrenaline to his rockers, all of which make up his three available records, "Take That Ride," "Knoxville Sessions" and "Zeke and the Wheel."

Tonight, Morris will read from the recently published "Early Fires," a collection of poetry from previous collections now combined in one tome. The performance is billed as a poetry reading, but undoubtedly some music will find its way into the program as well, he said — after all, many of his songs begin as poems, and many of his poems wind up being recorded as songs.

"Usually if I'm working around on a poem, I know that's what I'm going for, and that's what it turns out to be," Morris said. "But some of the poems, for instance 'Father Fisheye,' end up becoming songs before I get to the end of them. I could see it and feel it, and with others, like 'On the Bus We Go,' remain poems, but I've done them countless times with a band. That's where I have an ambiance of music behind the poem as opposed to a score of music written specifically for it."

The poems in "Early Fires" all revolve around a common center of gravity — Knoxville and East Tennessee. Despite his travels — in May, he'll tour the United Kingdom with longtime musical partner, local guitar legend Hector Qirko — Morris has always returned home to these hills. He admits it's a love-hate relationship with this area sometimes, but it still holds sway over his heart.

"I think of it as the Bermuda Triangle of the Appalachians — sometimes I think it has something to do with some force that's unknown," he said. "I think anybody, most anybody, would have a connection with their roots and wherever that might be, but Knoxville and East Tennessee is really a unique sort of place. It's always been a place that's on the verge, of opening up to the next level or whatever.

"I've always liked its history and what it had going, and I'm curious about what that next level could be and whether I can help it or push it along. I've got my family here, so that's tied me in a lot, but I feel connected to the hills and mountains of East Tennessee in that way as well. I love the literary and musical traditions and history, and I've participated in those traditions quite a bit. I like the angle we have on it here, and the writers from here — Cormac McCarthy, James Agee — aren't just great; they're exceptional and hardcore, cutting-edge artists.

"If you go and land somewhere else and put down stakes, then what are you?" he added. "You're just standing in line for somebody else's deal. Living here, this is my deal. And I feel good about that."

New album by Morris finally on the horizon

R.B. Morris may have not one but two new recordings out by the end of 2007 — his first since 1999's independently released "Zeke and the Wheel."

The title of his forthcoming full-length is simply "Empire," so named for the song "That's How Every Empire Falls." A moving, haunting ballad penned several years ago at the start of the Iraq War, it's been a staple at Morris' live shows and a favorite of his peers as well. (Nashville singer-songwriter John Prine covered the song for the vinyl re-release of his studio album "Fair and Square." "Empire" was included as a bonus track.)

The record probably won't be finished before Morris and guitarist Hector Qirko leave for Europe in May, however. To tide fans over, Morris said he plans on putting out an EP of five songs to "tease" the release of the full-length upon their return.

"It'll have a few things on it that aren't on the full CD —maybe some remixes or a different version of some of the songs," Morris said.

— Steve Wildsmith