This was a special weekend that I will never forget. I feel many things now, and may some day learn to write them down. It is nice to be alive when everythign is aligned.

I don't know if my life I going right, but I have seen many things and known some fine people. There is change on the horizon, and an excitement of not knowing what will be next.

This poem reminds me of wandering through a Portland Oregon garden in 1994, wondering about a friend in New York, her hotel now almost home -- our secret journey through the park and a note we left, for anyone, in the hollow of a tree. It said: see you in the stars, my friend.   

--

A Certain Slant of Sunlight

By Ted Berrigan

In Africa the wine is cheap, and it is
on St. Mark's Place too, beneath a white moon.
I'll go there tomorrow, dark bulk hooded
against what is hurled down at me in my no hat
which is weather: the tall pretty girl in the print dress
under the fur collar of her cloth coat will be standing
by the wire fence where the wild flowers grow not too tall
her eyes will be deep brown and her hair styled 1941 American
 will be too; but
I'll be shattered by then
But now I'm not and can also picture white clouds
impossibly high in blue sky over small boy heartbroken
to be dressed in black knickers, black coat, white shirt,
 buster-brown collar, flowing black bow-tie
her hand lightly fallen on his shoulder, faded sunlight falling
across the picture, mother & son, 33 & 7, First Communion Day, 1941--
I'll go out for a drink with one of my demons tonight
they are dry in Colorado 1980 spring snow.