ENCOMPASS ~

Time Passes Slowly

Breezy naked

Under a red

Summer dress

You will soon

Kiss me but

First point 

To four goldfinches

On a wire close enough

As if watching us

Their colors faded

From a week ago like

These autumn hills 

All That Thunder 

Wouldn’t you know — I was scything deep in the backyard around the wood’s edge and many of the flower beds, when the thunderstorm caught me flat out in the open, shoulder high with Jerusalem artichoke flowers and nowhere else to go. For a moment I ran under a tall ash tree, bundled beside a maple and its large leaf cover. Rain was coming down steady and cold. I took the scythe with me and ran for the outhouse. Kept the door open and watched the rain, the roof tip-tapping. I noticed that Sweetheart had run for the woodshed from her garden work and was standing there waiting for the thunder and rain to pass. It wasn’t working that way, instead it was settling in, darkening the sky, eclipsing the river valley. We waved to one  another. I then sat back on the bench, looked at all the faces and small posters and pictures tacked on the walls over the years. There’s Pete Seeger, there’s Dorothy Day, there’s Madonna’s large green eye peek-a-boo out of blond hair. There’s Sweetheart! she’s come with an umbrella to rescue me out of my rain cave. But instead of heading home we run up to another cottage, deeper in the woods, furious with a steel roof in the rain and fall asleep awhile in each others arm’s and all that thunder.

She Comes To Me This Way

In her stocking feet and the

Pleats of her skirt, the way

The blouse is plain and opened

At the sand of her throat and her

Face is burned with winter and

So happy, that it is only then I

Notice something more — a

Necklace of rawhide and soapstone

Pebble, and even closer, the etch of

Turquoise on the piece, which brings

Me to her eyes . . .

Encompass

Just that slight change in her expression

Warm, tender, all mine it says, changes my life

Since childhood, years before I knew her

—————————————

BOB ARNOLD

I'm In Love With You

Who Is In Love With Me

Longhouse 2012

 

JIMMY SCOTT ~

1967 ~

R E A D     M E

KENNETH KOCH & JOHN ASHBERY ~

SLIM HARPO ~

PHILIPPE JACCOTTET ~

Seagull Books

2017

DECEMBER

Pull back this curtain of snow . . .

JANUARY

The stream: an advancing murmur, escorted by that

of the trees, of the birds hidden along its edges.

   In Atoms of Silence, Hubert Reeves writes that

time passes more slowly at the bottom of a valley than

on the top of a mountain.

   Of the pilgrim, he says: 'He must be taught to live

in the space between knowledge and vision, and to

take the precise steps that will lead him to the truth.'

There was that late winter, saturated with frigid

lights as if we were already being pursued by a

swarm of hail with most tender stings.

   Then the knot of brooks came undone

like a braid.

   The hail lived in the trees for a short

time . . .

DECEMBER

The comet, sparkling, observed yesterday in the icy

night:  nothing more than a dandelion's feathery

sphere.

JUNE

Afternoon heat. The sky almost incandescent just

above the rooftops, light blue higher up, where even

the swifts appear calmer, less greedy, almost always

taking time to glide.

'The cold season.' It could be a title. Nothing that

burns, nothing that devours. As when we leave, and

naturally it's the case, whether we like it or not.

Nevertheless, the world is still there; the foliage

shines; the light on the morning horizon is a white

haze. The spider webs are also shining in the window, 

fragile and tenacious — exemplary in this. There is no

way to feign 'perfect joy'.

————————————

Philippe Jaccottet

ASTRAL WEEKS ~

This is musician and spirit Mel Lyman

(look him up)

Finally, a handsomely researched book on the Boston

music scene — folk to rock — circa 1968.

Van Morrison is the big cookie in this book

but Mel Lyman and followers is the jam

center.

The Velvet Underground show up

ditto Leary and Alpert at Harvard

&

LSD

and how could one forget The Boston Strangler ~

Astral

DOWN IN JOE BUSSARD'S BASEMENT ~

HUNTER S. THOMPSON ~

R E A D     M E

Melville House

2018

ROBERT NIGHTHAWK ~

NEW LONGHOUSE BOOKLETS! ~

All new from Longhouse this year
 in their fold-out splendor ~

Julia Older translates Boris Vian and Salvatore Quasimodo

two accordion booklets available with wrap around bands

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TWO LONG POEM BOOKLETS BY

GEORGE EVANS

&

ROBALD BAATZ

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Each foldout booklet with wrap around band

$10 postpaid in the USA ~

Overseas please inquire

OR

Take ALL six booklets for $45

postpaid

We accept a check or please use Paypal with our email — poetry@sover.net

We'd be happy to Paypal invoice you upon request

——————————

L O N G H O U S E
P.O. Box 2454
West Brattleboro
Vermont
05303

GLADE ~

Glade

                                           for SEA

the woodcutter

never gets it —

while he sleeps

firewood seasons

Where the tall hemlock

crashed down in the woods

taking away its shade

now a sunshine

with only benevolence

runs along its spine

work clothes off

back into a skirt

you show me

at supper where

the log today

bruised your shin

right behind

and nearly under 

the truck we spread

the Mexican blanket

to take a nap be-

tween cutting wood

because the sunshine is there

the apple today

isn’t as tasty as

the apple yesterday

you packed for me

at lunch when we 

break from wood-

cutting and the two

chocolate kisses you

never forget to bring

the same time

we are cutting

all this wood

the tomatoes

back at home

are ripening

the ash trees by the truck

are so willowy and tall I

hate to cut them down

to dry that way through

fall, winter, spring and I

will visit them again by

summer with my saw

meaning business

I can’t help but stop

to rest and sink my

woodsmear hands

while hugging you

down inside your

overalls and now

your smile at my

touch of the 

silkiest things

without looking —

too busy with axe

chain saw, wooded ground tumble

we hear hawk, bluejay, sparrow, owl

chickadee & a few things unknown

It’s a glade we rough out from

blowndown oak and maple trees

woodcut and hand-split circle

of sunshine and scrabble

we could almost call it home

before we hiked in for a look

then drove in getting serious

with chain saw and tools

everything was just fine

(and rotting)

I said

we could make love

right on the tailgate

33 years

somehow never done

she said she would

but in the deepest green woods

someone could be watching

I can split red oak on the run

rock maple with three whacks

I dream about it now

—————————————

BOB ARNOLD

I'm In Love With You

Who Is In Love With Me

Longhouse 2012

 

JACKIE WILSON'S WORKOUT ~

HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD ~

"It's fun how values can waver"

BARBARA DANE ~

COLD MOUNTAIN ~

JAIME BROCKETT ~

Jerry Jeff Walker wrote the song

but I always liked Brockett's version

off his debut album in 1968

'Remember the Wind and the Rain'

LOUISE GLUCK ~