I dleleted the last
      poem that I wrote
     when I stopped flowing
    and didn't know where my
     mind was going.

     and now that the new day
        is here
    I have fought against
       the fear of 
      bad novelitic tradgedy 
   that I write unconsciously in my mind
    and imagine that is what my life
         will be
   
      but it won't
  I'll make it bad poetry instead
   Bad poetry for a happy life!

   If you go to
       Wasseeerrr College
    say to visit a college friend
     on a Saturday in May you
           can go off into the 
      Holyoake hills, really mountains
        burried in Glacial mud and
   the big river running through it.

       There's a place where
   the sunlight comes down through
       the pines, and the snow
       melting in the morning, freezing in
          the afternoon when the sun passes
      around

        In Summer the sun's there all day.
  swarms of gnats flittering in the sun beams.

       It's better on the cross country skis
     January
       when it is cold

   After sleeping on the bus
      he came out into the sunlight
    of Framingham to notice
       20,000 crows
       circling across from the
        'Target' that used to be
       'Leachmeres'
             and before that
           I don't remember.

        Terse
      Truth that
         bytes
       but lances
     and heals

   

        Under the seat at the Theatre
          Wads of dried gum.

              She gets up to
        go and wash her hands.

       A preposition concerning location
      and a metal detector in an unopened box
    give Rick hopes to find
      a fist ful of change 

    when I call
        and caw over the line
    to land on you when you
       are scrubbing your toilet
      I guess it's more
       important to scrub away filth
      that still there when you wake
        and there when you sleep
      it was there all week
            It's the filth that you make
      not really filth at all.

      You hung up
        and kept scrubbing

      I am hoping for
    a gem on inanity which
       I know if I pulled over
     at a random spot, say on
       route 12 near Troy

       I'd notice old beer cans 
      rotted in a pile within a
    grove of old Arabora-Therantium
       someone must have planted
    as a shrub sometime
        when there must have been 
 a house on this part of filled in marsh?
    
      Or maybe the place was made by beavers?
     Seemed pretty deep and real,
       that marshland, no
   Army Core dam near by . . .

     Back in the car
          I flipped in another CD
       and blasted rock quitar
      across the barron river lowland highway.

     Not a random act.
      Not a random place.

   Mount Monadnock looms off in the
           clouds.

  (I promised myself I'd stop using
       the line
        'far away distance')