MARGUERITE DURAS ~

R E A D     M E

Dorothyproject.com

2019

VERMONT MAPLE CARTOONS ~

Kitcheneat | Vermont

It's that time of year again ~

sugar on snow!

Robert Schelling has now released

his endearing mutts of the snowy woods

gathering maple sap and making syrup,

zest and a whole town.

I love these cartoons and this book.

The book is kissin' cousin with my own

Sapline from the sugar bush.

JACK BURNS (LONELY ARE THE BRAVE) ~

K I R K      D O U G L A S

I s s u r      D a n i e l o v i t c h

December 9, 1916 ~ 2020

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JANINE ! ~

Happy Birthday, Janine!

5 February 1942

FIRST SIGHT OF HER AND AFTER ~

First Sight of Her and After





A day is drawing to its fall

   I had not dreamed to see;

The first of many to enthrall

   My spirit, will it be?

Or is this eve the end of all

   Such new delight for me?



I journey home: the patterns grow

   Of moonshades on the way:

'Soon the first quarter, I suppose,'

   Sky-glancing travellers say;

I realize that it, for those,

   Has been a common day.




____________________

Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)

POEMS FROM THE EDGE OF EXTINCTION ~

R E A D    M E

a must!

YOKEL ( 17 ) ~

Woodcutter’s Memo

It will fit into the firebox

If — when she measures it —

Its height doesn’t reach

Above her knee

Lumbermen

My father —

An old lumberman now

Tells me a little yarn about one

Of our descendants who were all

Sawmill owners and loggers and

How Grandfather Henry when he was 

Cutting off Mount Greylock for his mill and

For the state of Massachusetts carving a

Road out to the mountain’s summit also

Worked over one landowner for most of

One night about a particular oak tree he

Wanted and left quite pleased from his

Visit with the man because he was given

Permission to cut the tree he had already

Earlier in the day cut down

Hauling Wood

Winter after winter I used to cut my

Cordwood on the hill and backpacked

Up fuel jugs, water jar, an apple for a 

Snack and chain saw, and when I had my

Wood it was always near Spring. Over the

Spring I usually did something for Native like

Stonework or carpentry and in return he would

Bring his truck over when the woods were

Again dry and begin to haul the cord

Wood out with me and stack it at a

Landing near the house. Without fail

He always began with the woodpile

Furthest back in the woods, until after

Some days we ended the work with

The one closest at hand.

for Alden

Reclaimed

Where loggers

Went through

Now Johnny

Jump ups

______________

Bob Arnold

Yokel

Longhouse

2011

PETER SERKIN ~

P E T E R      S E R K I N

1947 ~ 2020

WES WILSON ~

W E S      W I L S O N

July 15, 1937 ~ January 24, 2020

FORGOTTEN JOURNEY ~

S I L V I N A      O C A M P O

City Lights

2019

February

A chimney, breathing a little smoke.

The sun, I can't see

making a bit of pink

I can't quite see in the blue.

The pink of five tulips

at five p.m. on the day before March first.

The green of the tulip stems and leaves

like something I can't remember,

finding a jack-in-the-pulpit

a long time ago and far away.

Why it was December then

and the sun was on the sea

by the temples we'd gone to see.

One green wave moved in the violet sea

like the UN Building on big evenings,

green and wet

while the sky turns violet.

A few almond trees

had a few flowers, like a few snowflakes

out of the blue looking pink in the light.

A gray hush

in which the boxy trucks roll up Second Avenue

into the sky. They're just

going over the hill.

The green leaves of the tulips on my desk

like grass light on flesh,

and a green-copper steeple

and streaks of cloud beginning to glow.

I can't get over

how it all works in together

like a woman who just came to her window

and stands there filling it

jogging her baby in her arms.

She's so far off. Is it the light

that makes the baby pink?

I can see the little fists

and the rocking-horse motion of her breasts.

It's getting grayer and gold and chilly.

Two dog-size lions face each other

at the corners of a roof.

It's the yellow dust inside the tulips.

It's the shape of a tulip.

It's the water in the drinking glass the tulips are in.

It's a day like any other.

___________________

James Schuyler

Collected Poems

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

OUT OF MY HEAD ~

R E A D       M E

New York Review of Books

HISTORY OF ROCK AND ROLL ~

R E A D       M E

Great books

Volume 2 can become tedious,

Volume 1 is the gem ~

but it takes two.

António Osório ~

____________________________

A strong debut selection presented

by Patricio Ferrari and

designed by Bob Arnold at Longhouse

into an attractive foldout booklet

of 18 poems

$12

postpaid

Please pay by Paypal

poetry@sover.net

or check:

L O N G H O U S E

PO Box 2454

West Brattleboro

Vermont

05303

______________

THE WANDERING BOY ~

YOKEL ( 16 ) ~

Wind

Where Native has his junkyard

Which is causing all this trouble

With another town down river

About spilled fluids and such

A wind last week came into the

Valley and got snagged up right

At that spot and after it took off

Half of Gardener’s greenhouse

Roof and sailed it somewhere

Wind opened its mouth and bared

Its teeth and shook the earth from

Under Native’s life by knocking

Red pine trees his father planted

Anyway it pleased, some over

Those shit cars, and you just

Wouldn’t believe how the large

Rock maples that have grown

For years along the river 

Were snapped in half 

Woodlot

Here with me everywhere

In the snowy woods

Far from any road —

The smallest animal tracks

Logger

Logger came around at dinner time

And rapped at the kitchen door. We

Could see him through the glass door

Standing there in grimy t-shirt and

Camouflage trousers but had no idea

Who he was. Friendly enough smile.

He introduced himself tipping his head

In a few nods like a shy pony before

Spilling out the reason for his visit.

Turns out the Boy had been over across

River where logger was cutting and with

Another friend fooled with his skidder —

The gears had been played with, seat

Monkeyed over and what was worse

Logger found matches stuffed down

The gas tank and didn’t like it one bit.

I agreed and called the Boy over.

Logger looked at him as I did and

When asked if he had screwed with

The skidder nodded that he had but

Now realizes it was wrong and he

Didn’t mean to. Logger seemed a

Fair-minded sort and admitted he was

Once wild as a kid and seemed to

Satisfy himself with that. Turns out

He is cutting on Cityboy’s land which

Takes driving a log truck through a

Low part of the river, never mind getting

Over there each day for Logger, so his

Job was tough enough not to have kids

Playing with his gear. We left it with

A mutual understanding and an oily

Handprint of Logger on the white porch

Railing where we had stood awhile and

Talked about things around this valley.

Old Trick

Waiting for snow by

Getting everything done

______________

Bob Arnold

Yokel

Longhouse

2011