Poems and Visions

   I can do it,
  I know I can do it,
  just a memory of a place far away
  a time long ago, say

Vermont

    Vermont
   and an orange sunset,
   an Adirondack Sunset
     and a road that goes up a hill towards
         the National Forest
    and a brook that flows along that road

No where to Rest

  But there wasn't any place to pull in
     except at the end of the road
    and he stops and gets out and surveys
      the poison ivy
    brillient in the ever diminishing light
          of the late dusk

     So he gets in his car
       and he takes his
   little notebook that he bought in
      Brattleboro 
        on the road

         At a little store
            where he bought a first
     edition
      Tresstessa

  paperback for twenty dollars
   that was once owned by someone
       in Glens Falls New York
        1963 she'd signed her name
       

  the book was too fragile to read
      so he stopped at another bookstore
    and got a current copy and read it
      at a Rest Stop with some
              

    fragmented thoughts of wondering off,
        setting up camp,
    finding a home
     Why didn't JK ever write of
             

Vermont

Adirondack Sunsets

Being

Lost in New England

  Well, I guess what else did he
write about but 
 Being

      being partial to
    New England writers
   and guys from Lowell
 (mp's dad was from Lowell)

  If I had a vision
    of the rancid midnight
  shopaholic alchoholic
    surfer for souls,
   rides back on a cloud
 descends like a soft Summer shower

  Fragment hurts to bring you back to yourself
     and hopefully coaxing you into
  full awareness but
     I can't be there for you when the 
        midnight . . .

   He thought about poetry as he
      wrote it
   and wanted to share his hard earned 
       worth of words
     in the Babylon
    he tries to make sense
  when sense is needed
  
  Otherwise maybe see him goofing by the River?

  If your heart breaks up and
      you face your lonleness like
         a man 
             (prudent soul)
            then do you accept
     the fate of what will be
      without regret of the losses 
    that maybe could come?

      Those are some hard stories.
   I read them, all of them, what they
      lost, what they had to sell,
     what they couldn't keep,
     what they couldn't give away.



       If the roof is where you are, they say
    then on the roof you'd better stay.
   there is no turning back

      I thought I'd write a story of how she
       lost it all
    in the summer wind
   on a summer's day.

  I tell the tale 
   of all the hearts
    she'd ripped apart
    and what they'd paid.

   And mean.  I'd be catty and mean
       like a mean episode of 
        a catty ABC house-wife drama.

      Then, when I was sane
          I didn't write that story.

  There is
  No Parking
   at Land's End
   on my secret shoreline
      that everybody knows about.

   Most day's if I made
   coffee in the morning and
     had too much caffeene
 i couldn't write my stories becuae
  I had to meditate the 
      shakey fears away.

      And I should have been reading
        Psalms more often
    for the blessings that they give.

  Should?  Should?  Should?

   Did anything good
      ever come from Should?

   shut up and read your psalms.