again already!

I realize this is not usual for me but time moves fast these says in the 87th year. I realize also that the material about publications, activities needs editing. Will do, perhaps even soon. To alert you, my next book, Excuse For Bring Here (my life with Thoreau) is proceeding and should materialize this fall. In the mean time, another poem.

       The Cooper's Art

A well-made barrel — she was

well made — every curved tapered

stave fitting seeming seamless. 

Promised — No — remembered 

liquor mellow as her belly 

swelled.  But now. drinking's done.

Sun, age, time, build strains 

the cooper's art still restrains. 

One hoop at either end

kept the spirit young until I

took one tight rusted ring away.

Staves tumbled every which way. 

The head fell in on a criss-cross 

pile of odd shaped sticks. For

the loss of that one hoop, shape

design, meaning, all undone.