wounded in the line of duty

long day trying to do too much
around 5:30 a loud cry from the basement
I descend two flights of stairs at top speed
to find Sam clutching his leg through blood soaked pants
stabbed himself with the sheet rock knife
everything remaining to be done is set aside
first, first aid: bandaids, wet cloths, cleaning, elevation
second, reordering my priorities


okay today’s the day to face it
learn to paint this trim
patch all the holes with putty
ranging vertically from floor to ceiling
the full circumference of two rooms
then traverse again with sandpaper to smooth
avoid getting any painting done
until almost 5pm at war with my resistance
and then I do it
it’s either terrible or okay

new york friday

I declare this Friday free

and take off into the city (after an hour of cleaning)

a sketch-out and another shop-a-thon at Gudrun’s

where I explore the possibility of purchasing a reinvented life

many thousand faces, no one I can capture

my sketch of Gertrude Stein doesn’t turn out

8.5 miles is a long way to walk

while uncertain over reinvention

silence in the snowy fields

a life in poetry
I once aspired to it
encountering Robert Bly along the way
a huge presence, a brief personal encounter
– gave him a lift from New Hampshire workshop to the Hartford airport –

I lost my aspiration but
not my admiration of
his wholehearted giving
himself up to it
these mystic pursuits
in snowy fields
unto his final days

At Jacob Burns Center tonight with Suzanne: Robert Bly: A Thousand Years of Joy

housing crisis

staff meeting, four women, all experiencing a type of housing crisis

– bought a ranch, gutting and remodeling
– contractor skipped town leaving work undone
– town has to approve, plans have a million details
– and me the shoemaker’s child without an architect

squirming through these expressions of unacknowledged privilege

really eager to find another way to deal with this

“a great room”?

trim trim

Dave and his saw came over cutting trim, trim, trim,
all around the edge of the living room,
once with baseboard, then with quarter round along the floor,
and manufacturing little bits that make returns,
that little elegant transitional statement at the end

all this generates trimmings of the trim
odd combinations of geometry well suited
for the sketching eye


goodbye, Dr. Castaldi

strange to be in downtown Stamford
where I’ve spent time over many
years – Curley’s, Mill River Park,
working in Landmark Tower, Champion building,
the Financial “Centre”, going to the
Ferguson Library, Capriccio’s, shopping at stores
that don’t exist anymore, Goodwill (still there,
same place), UU Society (now Congregation),
and my eye doctor – I think
I’ll miss you most of all