Thursday, April 2, 2020

Tuesday, March 31, 2020




They sap man’s substance

as moon the dew.

A rope grows erect

from the crown of the head.

A black swan hatches

from a pebble.

And a flock of angels in the sky

is taking an evening class

on the skid pan.

I dream, so I dream.

I dream

that three times three is nine,

that the right-hand

rule applies;

and when the circus leaves

the trampled ground will

once more overgrow with grass.

Yes, grass.

Unequivocal grass.

Just grass.

Miroslav Holub
Poems Before & After
Bloodaxe Books 

Monday, March 30, 2020


March 2020

YOKEL ( 25 ) ~

Come Closer

Once long ago in old Vermont

We stopped the car on a mud road

Into a village to ask directions from

Anyone we could find, and while you waited

In the car I went and stepped into a store, barely lit

And so dark and cavernous it seemed early-Spring-bear-like

As I finally saw a figure sitting in a rocking chair, a man,

And he asked out of the darkness how he might help

I’ll never forget that time nor that man, and of course

I have completely forgotten the name or place on the map

But it was real

Because —

A few years later, in the peach of summer, closer to home and

Again on an old road we stopped for directions, and this

Time I entered a hilltop farmhouse and could hear someone

Beckon to me to come closer down this sun dusty hallway

With the palest afternoon light, and by a corner woodstove

Sat a very old and rickety wood built man, ancient as the

Plaster walls, and he asked what he could do for me 


When I stepped back out the door I saw the maple trees dark

Leafed, trapping summertime in their bonnets — while broad 

Fields went to upper pastures shadowy lush and holding on

Holding on

                                                    for Richard Levasseur

After Chores

It’s just like her —

that small dish

of scented soap

at the big cast iron

kitchen farm sink

for smaller hands



bib overalls

grubby cap

in the fancy deli

for a pizza slice

sits with tourists

he once sawmilled

boards for me and I

haven't seen him in years

I said hello how you been are

you taking a break?

a break from what?

from work

I don’t know...are

you taking a break?


from what?

from work

Bob Arnold

Sunday, March 29, 2020


Back Road Chalkie
R O B E R T      F R O S T
Spring 2020

Saturday, March 28, 2020


Roots and Branches

      Sail, Monarchs, rising and falling

orange merchants in spring's flowery markets!

messengers of March in warm currents of news floating,

      flitting into areas of aroma.

tracing out of air unseen roots and branches of sense

      I share in thought,

filaments woven and broken where the world might light

      casual certainties of me. There are

      echoes of what I am in what you perform

this morning. How you perfect my spirit!

      almost restore

an imaginary tree of the living in all its doctrines

      by fluttering about,

intent and easy as you are, the profusion of you!

awakening transports of an inner view of things.

Robert Duncan
The Collected Later Poems and Plays
edited with an introduction by Peter Quartermain
U Cal Press, 2019

Put your good hands into the good hands of Peter Quartermain's
guidance through the later world of Duncan, fertile ground