Sunday, January 31, 2021


" You be Harry Glazier's boy, bean't ye?"


Sugaring Off

Easter vacation

  he tramps the Gutter Road

      from Gramp's to Uncle Maurice's

  where the whole family's sugaring

Lynn and Orman and Calvin

  trip metal caps off buckets

      under spiles

  draining the sugar bush

Merle bossing the gathering,

  tub slewing, team

      straining, bobsled runners

  grating on a ledge

Perry shoves another slab

  in the firebox

     "a gallon to the barrel, boys,

  get a move on!"

      Maurice tips the dipper, testing

In the kitchen Aunt Pluma

  boils down a batch for

      fancy sugar cakes:

  stars, hearts, scaled fish

Loyce and Thelma spoon snow

  from a dishpan into ie pie plates

      the thick glaze pulls at the fork

  "a little goes a long ways"


Lyle Glazier

Prefatory Lyrics

Coffee House Press, 1991


It was the poet and editor Cid Corman

who had the great ear and tenacity to

promote, publish and persevere

so many fine back country poets —

be it Gary Snyder's early book of poems

Riprap, or Lorine Niedecker's entire workbook,

Theodore Enslin's musical memory, and gone into

the bushes forgotten Lyle Glazier's tramps in the sugar bush,

and this is a mere touching of the Corman radiance.

So few could restore that moment of lyrical movement

and visual care as Lyle Glazier works his tablet in

Prefatory Lyrics.

[ BA ]

Saturday, January 30, 2021



Another one from my little books bookcase —
ideal and still easy enough to find a copy,
a few bucks used, and neat leathery
feel cloth, brought forth from
Harvey Brown's Frontier Press —
you can almost smell the past!
Stan Brakhage writing as if an
open letter his loves and lumber
about making film.
Reads closely, Brakhage
always gives more than he's asked.

[ BA ]

Friday, January 29, 2021



Did you know Gertrude Stein

pointed Paul Bowles

toward his longtime

hangout of


Read more!

P A U L     B O W L E S

Wednesday, January 27, 2021



"Very happy evenings to sit by the fire and read through Holy Ghost. You have been at this particular work of poetry, documenting in unswervingly clean verse, the life around you, that you have built with Susan, for so long. A book like this is doubly enjoyable. One for the clarity and ethos of its poems, unlike anyone else’s these days. And like an intimate extended letter from a long time friend. You may be the only poet I can think of who does something I like to do in poems: show that we live among books. How many volumes of poetry do you read in which no matter what items of life show up, it is as though the poet is shy or even ashamed to depict him or herself as a steady, serious reader? You’ve got gift for portraits of people, mostly the locals of course, and in a Niedecker offhand way you manage to get their vernacular speech into a poem, as well as your own."


Andrew Schelling


Bob Arnold

Holy Ghost

Longhouse 2021



was the one with you—

whether you knew it

or not


Bob Arnold

212 pages



$3.95 shipping

US addresses

We accept Paypal

Please use our email address of

Payable by check ~


PO Box 2454

West Brattleboro, Vermont 05303

Monday, January 25, 2021



P O E T S     W H O     S L E E P


                                           drawn & scribed by Bob Arnold

Sunday, January 24, 2021

Friday, January 22, 2021



H A N K     A A R O N



Antler — always startling fresh poems

come from this poet, and in a variety

of venues: early book from City Lights FACTORY (1980)

I highly recommend, plus his selected poems of a sort

in LAST WORDS (hope not) will keep you company

for the rest of your life. Born Brad Burdick in Wisconsin

in 1946, whenever I read Antler he seems ageless.

One of my most favorite poems by him

is the one we published

shown above.

[ BA ]

Wednesday, January 20, 2021



Liberty, You Say


you tell me,

is the most beautiful

thing that exists

on our young


You can't

live without it;

it's like the oxygen

of the soul.

If you have it,

you can never

lose it,

for you would die

from such immense pain.

It is not conquered.

It is carried humbly,

like an afternoon

in the depths of the heart.

But I who live

and suffer my country

like no one else,

I do not agree

with you.

The people here

have never been free.

For many it no longer matters

if the chain is thick

and gets thicker daily.

It doesn't move them to know

that their country,

like a sad, sweet


slowly agonizes;

surrounded by the cold

and miserable indifference

of her children.

You also don't


the brute dictatorship

we suffer in my country.

Nor have you ever

lost your freedom.

And your laughter

is the happiest

of all the laughter

I know.

Your country

is now a series

of simple mornings

that sing at sunrise

for you and yours.

But one day



also be free.


we will have

to defend

our liberty

every day,

making deep sacrifices

of tenderness and kindness.

Liberty is

within us,

like the night

is in the dawn,

and by our

resounding will

the digits

of her face

are already marked.

You must also

get used to freedom

in order to love it,

and to guard it

every second,

because it's been


for a long time

so that its smooth, clear

heart of multitudes

could be clubbed to death.

But above all,

when you don't have it,

when you don't know

the particular details

of her face,

then you should fight

to find her,

to liberate her

from the darkest shadow.

This way, liberty

is the triumph

of those who

have never been truly free.

And once achieved,

they should repeat

the action

every day of their life.

translated by Alejandro Murguia


Otto Rene Castillo

Tomorrow Triumphant

Night Heron Books, 1984

Scroll up again and look at that beautiful poet's face.

At age 31, in the early spring 1967, in the remote highlands

of Guatemala, Otto Rene Castillo was burned at the stake after

days of being tortured and mutilated by the Guatemalan Army.

It is said, "Castillo met with dignity the prescribed fate of

captured guerrillas of the Revolutionary Armed Forces (FAR) 

of Guatemala. After years of agitation and exile, he had entered

into armed struggle convinced that it was the only way to liberate

his country from a tragic history of oppression and genocide."

[ BA ]

Tuesday, January 19, 2021


We lost Mike O'Connor out in his naive land

of the Pacific Northwest — but then the Far East

could also be said to be Mike's native place as well —

sometime this month. I was just receiving the news

from a mutual friend who also sent to me this photograph

of Mike titled "Mike/Old Growth" when we got slammed

up and down in Vermont with a heavy wet snowfall and

all power went bye-bye for a day and night so there

was no access to nothing except the snowmelt pools

I found to fill us up 15 gallons of water for bathing and

dishes, something Mike would well understand.

Mike's book of poems The Rainshadow remains one

of my standby classics — built, indeed, out of old growth.

How do you not fall for a guy who looks

like this guy in this photograph? 

[ BA ]


Monday, January 18, 2021


P O E T S     W H O     S L E E P


                                           drawn & scribed by Bob Arnold