lost dog air

click here to find this morning's vpr commentary -- on losing our 8-pound chihuahua in middlebury's battell woods.

trent pic no. 12

the latest from trent campbell, a silo in weybridge

numb

His suicide vest was armed with golf-ball-sized hail.
In the woods, I watched them load their rifles
with the-good-and-the-just.
Outside the post office, she left a parcel
packed with 24-7 beneath a mailbox.
While her husband doused Main Street with patriotism
and tossed a match.
My mouth stuck with shame,
I strapped my poems into car seats and drove us all into the lake.

dirt road run no. 2

I lifted my head
and breathed in the dust,
the sky was scabbed over with clouds.
I lowered my head
and joined the cremated remains,
burrowing past the ancient stones,
into the silt beneath
the drowned clocks.

votin' time

Time again for the annual seven days readers poll, which includes a best-vermont-blog category -- this year, wisely broken into "political" and "non-political." Despite my pending departure, this blog is still eligible for "non-political;" (and if i wasn't voting for myself, i'd be casting a hearty ballot for sr wild -- the kid is fun, visual, well-written, and best of all, not boring. Plus, you can send him stuff in the mail and he'll send you stuff back).

As for political blogs, philip baruth's hard-working and immensely readable vermont daily briefing won last year and is again a strong contender. I've also been reading a lot of freyneland and vt.buzz, both informative and heavy comment-generators. For a comprehensive list of vermont blogs of all stripes, visit 802online.

So click here to vote (polls close June 25). And a couple things to remember:

1) seven days requires that at least 23 questions be filled out; so don't just skip to the blogs or it won't count.

2) when you get to the blog category, type in (or copy and paste) the full address (i.e. http://www.blahblahblah.com) not just the blog name.

Thanks for supporting your local bloggers.

trent pic no. 11

Check out this stunner from Trent Campbell -- a shot of the softball pitcher from Otter Valley Union High School in Brandon (originally published in The Addison Independent). "She pitched well, but the team lost the game to Randolph," Trent said. "From what I could see, most of the (OV) players had tinted the tips of their hair red." Click to enlarge.

secret rooms

We pull all the books from our hallway shelf,
one by one, like removing bricks,
as if to reveal a secret room,
a hidden way out.

We pull all the books from our living-room shelf,
title by title, like extracting teeth,
until only rows of wooden gums remain,
rectangular mouths gaped in surprise.

All these books
now huddled in beer boxes,
revealing the secret rooms
hidden inside our mouths.

dirt road run

Wet fingers tap my shoulder.
Above my head a halo of bugs.
The branches bow as I run past,
over potholes filled with rain and black farm cats.

these woods

The pies cooling on windowsills smell of manure
The trees take turns playing trumpet
The wind blows open the last creaking door
On our final walk through these woods.

modern life

I look for garbage bags in the fridge
check the cupboard for milk
stride into the living room, no idea why.
Looks like late spring outside.
Could be early fall.
Is this car mine? Or my wife’s?
I’ve driven 37 miles
with no memory of the last four towns.
My mind's always wandering,
staying out later,
straying further
beyond the wooden gate,
down the gravel drive,
across the state highway,
across state lines.
The other day it didn't come back,
left without a word,
left me staring at the gas pump
which I mistook for a juke box.
I had no idea where the quarters went.
Or whether a song could be eaten.
Yesterday, I received a postcard,
with a garden of marble statues
on the front.
On the back was writing
I couldn’t make out,
all strange squiggles and loops and dashes.
But something in my heart
told me I was having a great time in Rome.
I run to the mailbox every afternoon
but I haven’t found any more sandwiches.

all good things...

So sadly, Chris and I are leaving Vermont. Moving to Boston. For a variety of reasons – family, schooling, jobs, an urban experience for our teenage daughter. After Chris’ parents died last fall, we did some deep life-thinking. And ultimately decided on a change. We say goodbye to Middlebury on June 28th. My thinking right now is I'll shut down what i saw today at the end of the month. I hope to start another blog once we get settled in Beantown. In the meantime, I welcome and encourage any and all of you to join my mailing list (it's private, non-commercial). Just go to my website, click on “join the list” and fire off a blank email. Basically, I send out alerts when new writing or radio commentaries are pending. And I’ll certainly send out a mailing for any new blog venture. There are many things I'll miss about life in Vermont. Being part of the blogging community is right up there. It’d be a true honor to take a bunch of you with me.

the big view (by maggie hall)

Click here to read Maggie's latest poem, about honoring the source no matter how removed, in this case her father's driving proctor from the 1940s. Enjoy.

a reminder

Got this tattoo from Rachel at the Blue Buddha on the Burlington waterfront this afternoon. It's a 1979 poem called "Art" by Charles Bukowski. A mere seven words: As the spirit wanes the form appears. He wrote it with modern poetry (at the time) in mind. That poets who lose touch with their inspiration try and cover up the deficiency with all kinds of rules and structure. Bukowski's notion applies to any aspect of life, really. When you stop playing by your own rules, you start playing by someone else's. I've been needing this reminder lately. Now, it'll be impossible to ignore.

Thanks, Hank. Thanks, Rachel.