collaboration / transport - ing

In the distance a train. Why do I not feel forlorn by the whistle here in Oregon?  I consider the trainyards of California, urban or not, shudder at memories: loss, loneliness, punctuated by the long moan of freight trains...  did these sounds trouble my childhood?  Possibly later, in those years of uncongenial youth spent with relatives, the sense of loss having stiffened. Deeper aversion to train noises, especially at night, must have arisen later, connected with Santa Barbara by a palimpsest of one loneliness upon another.

Greece. Olga Broumas. Intimations of Sappho in summer 1993, West Hollywood: hearing Olga and T. Begley read collaboratively what they have written collaboratively, sheets of powerful words, loose-leaf orange swirling from one writer’s hands to the stage

Escape into November

I counsel others to make the time
for art and self; this phase of solitude
I too need vigilance
not only to sort, organize, discard,
but to rest;

not just to complete task after task,
but to play;

And Yet the Moon

by helen laurence

following national election, November 14, 2016: ‘supermoon’
(closest since January 26,1948)

We wander half-jangled:
upheaval, avenues of gloom
after hopes of tipping into lamplit ease...shock
insistent on rising like the rows of spikes
in a parking lot, warning “Do Not Back Up,”
but now furtively switched,