The Right Column

Rememberance

Today in the mail came a copy of the Vermont Life Summer news-stand edition with the 'Danger Man' cover of the very handsome, even if looking like he could use some sleep, Michael Hastings. What a guy complete with his Some might think I'm a tool but I actually pull it off jacket with a 'stock-price' arrow on it. The arrow comes up, then down, then up. It points to the upper right, his upper left. He looks wonderful in it even though you can tell that he's been running his engine a little long and he needs to head back to dock and refuel, maybe rest. Let the boat drift in broad lake, the engines shut off. Face the sky leaning back, rocking in the cradle of the boat, the waves acting like Mother Lake, (Quana-guneerra-querrantu), rocking you, Are-ya-nacki?

This copy of this wonderful magazine needs to be enshrined in full view somewhere. I imagine a Journalist's Memorial at the Sand Bar (if you need to ask . . . then don't because if you don't know someone who will tell you where it is, then I don't want to either.) In any case I picture a Journalist's Memorial at the Sand Bar, and I would not mind at all if it were a place like Henry's grave, or Jack & Stella's grave, or Mr. Poe's grave.

I have not ventured up to Milton to see if there is a marker or memorial for MH. I am not sure if there is one. Like all people who die young after making a great big wake on the Lake of life, he will inspire many to seek a place to honor and reflect upon him. They did for Kurt Cobain. The public must have it's memorial. I am sure that MH's family understands this. They seem to be very civic minded and forward thinking. His parents are both physicians. It is no wonder that MH was a super achiever. Perhaps in a different generation he would have been a Jesuit.

Speaking of Memorials: as far as I know there is no "New England AIDS Memorial". The one in Golden Gate Park is spectacular, very solemn even on a revelrous day. I went there last during the Bay to Breakers day of May-pole meeting up. It seems to be a way for people to connect and celebrate life, not just a bacchanalia. Even during all of hooting and hollering; furious dancing; outrageous young people being forward and friendly with everyone around them, and life affirming, you walked down into the AIDS memorial and the solemnity hovered around like the angels that must guard the place.

Just remembering the dead is all that is needed. Memorials are sacred places. They ought to be beyond politics; outside of the cycle of spinning and 'messaging'; sacred; and guarded by our prayers like a place of Bardo.

Full moon over the Lamoille Delta, at the Rt 2 Causeway. I vote a spot near here for a Journalist's Memorial.

Oct 3, 2013

Please visit my DEMOS

  when the storm ended
   that storm never ended
 and the curtain was rended
   the press-boy offended
 he thought he hit delete
      but he sent it instead
    and then how his words
        were twisted and bent
    but he had to hit send
 it was the season of Lent
  He should have known better
      but he needs to make rent.

Style means more than just rules

'Love Solves everything, so simple.' page:

Very Many Hearts

How can I capitalize this website?

But keep it with high integrity?

I know how to make pages and content, I do not know how to make money on these pages. I need to learn about marketing!

    Praise the Lord just because you love Him!

Praise the Lord!

  I see you there
  with your giant fish
   catch and release
     catch and release
  I see you there
     dog on the beach
     catch and release
       catch and release

  There aren't any seals
    in Lake Champlain
   Just a big black dog
       with a giant maine
     And a muscle car 
          with the hot rod greese
     a solatery loon
      and some Canada Geese
 They live right here
     on the beach by the shore
   they never ever make it
      to a Richellu door
     And if you need to hear them
    or imagine a golden fleece
 Adirondack Sunset
       will bring a serene peace
   
  The rhyme goes sour, the
      words forced
      the door was not lock
 there is a knock

  It's late, the
        Moon gones down already
   after making love to the lake for
            the first part of the evening.
    And her shimmers, they 
        take a while to subside, she
   has to walk away from him he's
         gone corny he's
    given her a ring
        that she didn't want.

  Heartache sorry misery
      on the road
      in Vermont.

  Can you think of a worse poet
    for the too-soon-dead
              to haunt?

  Better or worse, what
     does any of it mean? What 
      does it mean.

 the shipman's son is dead
     along those Isleboro Island shores
    Kirsty Alley McGraw
  will never have his drunken leers
     on the way to the far away isle of
            Maine in the fog I
 imagine him the 
      sixpack is all gone now he
     could have pissed his pants in the car
   cause Blly didn't let him
    get out for a leak.

  Hadn't told him about the beers.
     Found out when he asked for a soda
  a mile out from the Portsmouth Rotary
   where they'd stopped to buy gas.
      John J. Spent a half hour in 
       the bathroom with his
     sixpack of beer
          untill Billy went in to get him.

    If you find yourself waiting for a ferry
   you never know who you are going to meet.
 Just because the local is a drunkard
        doesn't mean you shouldn't meet and greet.
 He'd love you better if he could get sober
      but it seems like that'd be a far away shore.
  He didn't get better before he crossed over
       so we don't get to hear his stories anymore.
 
  And no one is ever going to sit down at the
       dock side pub and brew with
          girls with breaasssttsss this biig,
          ya shoulda seen it
      he''d be leering towards Bavo's books
             back at Orkney Road
             back in the day
             in bad town, All-stoned
       stemming for a midnight drink
        at the temple of love of fellows, all
         fallen down always
   trying to get back to Camden Maine
       and his mother and father who
        got divorced and then
           he went to Patmos
             (no kidding)
         as a teenager.
   I don't know if he talked to Saint John
        in his dreams he was named after him
   to go all the way there 
   to the site of the greatest hullucination of all time
    Jesus talking to you 
       and showing you what to seal,
     how we don't need to seal the deal
  the city on the hill descends as a gift from on high,
       Jesus Christ is your guy
 the Alpha, the Omega, a true way of life
    garden of peace with a narrow gate
       its John
     he is surley
   it's the end of the day
  he shows me these print outs
   it's all legit
  he's
       really got it had it they took it
  I see it all how they did it
  I explain it to him the trustee
    was also the lawyer for the bank it's
      all on line the higher dividend the
      Yarralllsboro Isles haunts of Island Maine
    drifting upon a sea of insanity what
  dislexia used to do to bright and eager youth 
     they thought them troubling a 
         genius and 
    capible and
        without teeth but
    he has a twelve packk and a ticket for the ferry.

 He rode that ferry.
     He's gone now
   from the coast of Maine
     to the Island of Patmos
    to the Islands of Maine
       raise a prayer for him
  the sea captain's son.
 died too young.

I got nothing more