Greeley Ponds Ski Trail, WMNF

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Before Leaving For The Greeley’s

 

soon I will know who I am

soon I will crunch through snow

measure myself in the distance behind me sinking

boot and breath into the spine of who

soon I will discover was my former self

lost like the river frozen beneath

yet becoming

becoming roads

that lead to languages I have never dreamed

roads that are themselves bridges that betray

neither what they conceal or where they lead

bridges that trestle two inconceivable sources

just as it carries me off

so do I

carry it along

the two parallel boulevards

that I try to lose myself in

try to lose me

so, it is my choice to sleep there

nothing makes a place more real

as though snoring and waking

on the banks of diverging selves might

keep my knuckles from grinding

across the surface of myself

just as the river files the underbelly of ice

and the ice chisels the trail around it

I too intend to hack out the horror

that might one day be

with a low grit

and a bold boot

me

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Goodbye to Another October

sitting around

not being noticed

I felt compelled to spend some time

with the drowsy river

make tea and carve the measurement of time

only several cigarettes can afford

to spend alone with it

listen to it’s groaning

about it’s health and that it’s

barely scraping a living from its banks

but yet still it flows

wanted to say goodbye to another  October

which has its own obsessive issues bouncing its leg

and wanting to repeat and repeat

at a more frequent pace.

Under The Burn of Going Without


All year long my skin whitened under the burn of going without. -No travel in the most beautiful and aesthetic vehicle I know -no slap of wave against it’s hull -no satin surface to carve with the wood of paddle -no taste of that freedom only a river or lake affords -only obligations and responsibilities ate at any true sense of that freedom

until i went alone

the big boisterous sky ahead

under a hot mid-October sun

on a rocky outcropping

in a Thermarest with

a beer

and a smoke

above the lip of Lake Umbagog

my skin ripening

my legs crossed

the wave against rock

discussing their fears

of the weakening economy

the ignited hills above

gesturing towards the south

its orange airline traffic lights waving

the lone kayak passing by

complimenting the earth on her choice of weather

the tandem canoe in the distance clearly loafing in the sun

the bow adrift in no direction

the sequence skirt of the lake’s surface

showing off her goods

and my eyes when closed

were starry against the bright red

of that smoldering day

hot enough for a swim

“Had I come with anyone else… it would be about spending time with them. However valuable that time might be , tonight I am spending time with MYSELF.
Jeez, I wonder if the company will suck?!

https://crookedblueline.com/2011/11/01/903/