Monday, May 25, 2015


Kenneth  Warren
1952 ~ 2015

I just received this news about Kenneth Warren, whom I never had met, but we long ago shared a front cover photograph display and interior article in Poets & Writers on the highs & lows of being small press publishers. From that date forward we were forever in fair exchange mode. No one ever had to remind the other. We always came through and what I sent to Ken from Longhouse pressings, he sent in turn back to me from House Organ, and the poetry wheel revolved. Yes, forever the twain was met. Not as easy as you might think, and eternally thankful.

[ BA ]

                           for Kenneth Warren (1952-2015)                         

from the shelf  tumbles dust

dry words, unread pages

there is heaven and earth

Ontario become a dark ship in a lake of gods

your soul was as constant as the driven wind

deep soul, beautiful lake, beautiful water

it is a taking away, taken from us

the subject of poetry as you know too well

a cloudburst unleashed

the evening cry of gulls

sunset below the pattern of storm

driven like sleep finally come

aftermath of black waves

growing wave crests orange

almost all the beats would be fine

in rhythm, but then there would be

a pause, a skip

I’d glance at you, eye to eye

and see the terrible aloneness

what bright color might next catch our interest?

bury that thought  as they now bury you

the rabbit in the moon

was placed there

as tribute for rabbit’s sacrifice

of his life and substance

for the saving of others

                                         Alan Casline       
                                         May 25, 2015
                                         Elsmere, New York


"Just came to my e-mail to hear of the death of Ken Warren. Ken was one of my best and bountiful friends. So many times our paths crossed and we got to do a few things together. I was so looking forward to House Organ  #100. I could always push on Ken and he would always carefully push back. Loved the guy and the world a dimmer place. Still a bit shocked."

[ AC ]

  I haven't asked Alan to share his poem, words, photograph, but something tells me
he doesn't mind.


Alvaro Cardona-Hine & Barbara McCauley 

photograph by Jeane George Weigel


the cows walk ahead of me

down a road milky

with low-lying fog

from time to time

I hear voices

above the steady pounding

of the river

then I realize

it's the song

I had thought of singing

a butterfly with two

suitcases of color

on its shoulders

bumps into me

A Witness

I come from the arms of my mother

glad to live alone

with you and you and you

everywhere I look

an odor of light

bears down hard

upon the earth

the wind from the ocean

suddenly finds itself

among the barley

Three Rivers Tie A Knot In My

now the sun is on the hill

caressing the backs of the eucalypti

from my room I can hear

the cicadas above their patron saints

woodpeckers up the mountain

I laugh a little under my breath

I have fooled the priest

who expected me at confession

my growth depends exclusively

on the broth

simmering in the kitchen

New Explanation

staring at a bird in the darkness

becomes evening     evening

stresses its song     a song

how light

after being stolen

is spent on useless roads

how the wind leans on blunt instruments

large fields are often small


for Barbara

what I wanted to tell you is on the tip of my tongue

the wind will find it in your ear

it is a day of rain and sun

some patches of snow hold out under the silent pines

flower after flower blooms directly across our path

Alvaro Cardona-Hine
Lhude Sing Cuccu
Alba Books Press 2015