Darkness spills downhill,
Pools under trees and
Earth turns me to stars.
I locate Venus, Mars,
And that blue thing,
Then head home.
Doppler effect and
Some old ricochet you see,
Astonishingly old,
It or us rebounding,
Heading here, this garden--
A bridge of light sounding
Blue notes to this
Transpontine eye.
I don't know why, but
I think of love under
The blue thing,
Cross the shadows
And always head home.
I love this--and believe that I remember its nascent form from a trip we took in 1968, if I'm not wrong--and at the time I thought it grew out of your comments earlier that year about your deciding to experiment smoking dope on the EGHS football field with the "usual suspects" then: that it wasn't such a big deal that they said it was, but that you experienced "blue things" that lunch hour. Remember that?
ReplyDeleteHello Will!
ReplyDeleteOf course I remember, somebody had to. But, as the Fugs were singing back then, "out on the football football field ya never quite know what a field might yield", it was RED things. That blue thing, however, was indeed a star among millions that watched over us as we spent that long ago summer in the open night. Thankyou for remembering just that moment, apart from all the busy busy futures to which that moment took us! --Geo.