I should like to dedicate this posting to Peter G, who graduated Marine Corps boot camp with me. After my short spell of military service, I went on to enjoy all the benefits of civilian life– love and marriage, rock concerts, forest hikes, great restaurants, foreign travels, wild parties, dogs and cats. As for Pete, eight months after boot camp, he was killed in a firefight. He was only 19. Now, looking at his photograph, I am deeply saddened and lost for any further words. Peace, brother.
every eon arous’d I become by a stranger’s sensual embrace till I cry aloud a joyful cry and spew forth my eggs of liquid fire and ash to mingle with the suitors of land and sky and sea that my evolving world might endure not only to join Time but Her for some to really feel
driving a work day like a weather’d mural be— to and fro knowing every pothole every utility pole streaking past eyes’ corners— subconscious steering every curve braking every intersection— ‘tis better only as a passenger that marvels lost to attentiveness can be cherish’d and gift’d to memory