woodstock diary '73-'76

 *)*

 

A Vignette

*)*

*)*

It was a simple house in a simple town.

The road was long and winding.

Two men sat on the road.

They were playing cards.

One man had a bottle which was occasionally passed.

They were not playing for any stakes,

But as an excuse for companionship.

It was a simple house in a simple town.

Old gnarled, stately tall trees formed a woods

that lined the roadway.

It was noon, but the day was overcast;

not dark, but pleasantly muted.

It was autumn.

The trees were proud of their majestic leaves

of gold and magenta which covered their branches

and sprinkled the earth.

Small furry creatures occasionally could be seen

amidst the trees, leaves and earth.

The two men were aware of all this in the

backgrounds of their minds.

They were also aware of the pleasantness

of their peaceful companionship

as they played cards, passed the bottle

and made casual conversation about this and that.

It was a simple house in a simple town

by the side of a long and windy road

which was surrounded by woods.

A plane passed overhead

and was briefly a part of this scene,

before moving on to more important places.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Spring Medley

*)*

*)*

Air clear as a free-running stream

tumbling over country rocks and minty greenery

Clear soft air of early spring

Breathing satsang, reeling eternity,

While running 'cross the straight-lined highway

-- shouting

"Hey sky, embrace me!" shouting

I embrace the air and call it Love.

*)*

I love you, love you, love you, love you

I

Form, Words, Action

I in motion

I in tumbling, stumbling, crazy image

kaleidoscope

over 'n' over

love you, love you, love you, love you

Capture the essence for an almost noninstant

Capture the image of groping, grabbing, grasping

gazing heartfelt on release, but

love you, love you, love you, love you

insane, insatiable

cannot touch release of

love you, love you, love you, love you

Smothering in the too pure air.

*)*

Hey, Springtime,

Got some time to be wasting

So I tracked a songbird

on a still bare treebranch

and joined it in song.

What wonder the woods bring

I can't contain it.

Thistle and briar weeds

Capture my imagination

Grow wild and tangly

All through my mind.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Easter

*)*

*)*

Gentle rosy raindrops of a mellow morning,

Children make the day -- it's spring.

I thought of God in Church this morning,

nailed to His cross in long ago Jerusalem,

arising to springtime, the earth's reawakening.

It's a time for children and games of childhood,

a time for playing with love,

secret smiles and daisy chains.

It's a time for the simple and natural

A time for anointing the soul in peace

after the ravages of winter.

A time for gentle things

like newborn kittens

and flowerbuds after the rain.

I am slowly relearning the healing strength of love,

Slowly relearning the simple pleasures of humanity.

Life is sweet, poignant,

a drifting melody.

*)*

*)*

*)*

            daydream

*)*

*)*

It was a warm and windy day,

bittersweet in springtime,

the trees, newly leaved,

swayed in the warm, sweet melody.

It was a day to kick stones

along a riverbank and dream,

before a night of jukebox music and cokes

at the local diner.

What kind of day are you?

*)*

*)*

*)*

Caress the Moment

*)*

*)*

Caress the moment

Let it rain and whisper gentle melodies,

lusciously over your skin

  and tingling nerve ends.

Lap happily of the sweet, sweet honey

  that this time drips

  freely onto your tongue.

Be aware of the hopeful breezes

  and busy butterflies

  of sane emotion

  fluttering around and about.

Caress the moment as it caresses you

And care enough to share it

And help it grow into forever.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

 

  Somewhere

  in summer

  days are catching up to us

  All those silent moments

  When we would shout out our being

   but

   better not.

 

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Hurrah the Saturnalia!

*)*

*)*

Hurrah the Saturnalia!

Bacchus reigns on high

And all the world's a feast of fun

So pass the pipe and pour the rum

And flash a smile o'er everyone

A twinkle of the eye.

*)*

Hail the merry Season!

A boost for love & joy

When packages that yell "surprise!"

May dance before our merry eyes

from "Santa Claus" that merry, wise

& venerable old boy.

*)*

Joy to all ye revelers!

It's time to join in play

where roles are dropped and laughter raised

We're all buffoons, so clowns be praised

It's time to shout out loud, ablaze

"Joy to all today!"

*)*

A very merry holiday

to each and all I say!

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Memories

*)*

*)*

Memories, they weave a silken web in silence

We talk of times past in gently measured tones,

  sometimes bitter humor.

We watch a bird circling in the distance,

  and build patterns in the clouds.

Last year I spied a mole burrowing in

  the unmelted snow of early spring.

Today I tend to think of you

  smiling as you did last night

when you first saw me after parting.

*)*

*)*

*)*

Reflections

*)*

*)*

Walking long mornings into sunrise

You stood by and took the earth into your arms

like grainstalks

I called you my Degas print.

You spoke of the moon.

21 days and nights we tarried.

Almost single, almost married.

I loved you.

You spoke to me in words of magic.

Will you speak to me again?

Hollywood houses and Paris cafes bowed to us.

You said you needed work and companions.

I cursed you in my mind, and went off

seeking other follies.

The days look longer now, feel somehow strange.

Love is like a looking glass, reflecting change.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

For Michael

*)*

*)*

You were a mystery to me.

A sensual stranger in the night

Who brought me ecstasy and fantasy.

What we shared wasn't love --

but an adventure -- and the love of adventure

  draws you near me in certain dreams.

And you are still a mystery, a symbol in my life

  for certain exquisite longings.

The time we were together was a magic time.

I'm looking for that magic again.

I am looking for another magical romance,

  as I remember you and smile

  without wondering where you are.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

 

 

For Steve

*)*

*)*

Dreaming, I sit here,

Wondering, remembering your past

As you've told it to me in hours of easy yarning.

You look so young, asleep and dreaming

  beyond my touch.

Do you know that I think about you,

Watch for hours, wait for your step at the door?

Do you know that thoughts of you,

silent dreams and yearnings,

Are easily taking over my mind?

You said that men are romantic,

And women are strong and practical.

I don't feel practical or strong,

Just dreamy, and slowly

Obsessed.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

 

Rainbow Shop

*)*

*)*

And she sold me rainbows

dancing gaily 'cross the window

  windchimes in light.

And she smiled me daisies

and bursting bright blooms of summer.

And she told me, maybe,

if you're looking in

the right direction,

  a miracle may grace your sight.

And I smiled

dancing

  into the day.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

Diamonds and Rust

*)*

*)*

"Diamonds and Rust" like Joanie says

memories, I mean

lovers.

I saw you tonight with your San Francisco cut

and that old double-edged blade

went piercing through my heart

leaving me bleeding

memories

long through this autumn night

of no-sleep blues and golds

and rusty burnished reds

that cut like diamonds.

*)*

I call to you in fevered dreams

that leave me gasping,

haunting all through the dreary day.

Can't escape that sudden urgency.

Just like days gone by. You don't answer.

You don't hear me through all that mass

-- your own driving imperative.

We meet so seldom

separation so long.

We are like strangers.

Yet times we have touched, one to one,

to perfection,

have been one strength and impulse

have known such intimacy . . .

I call to you now,

Hearing your voice in every song of romance.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

(dedicated to Danny McDermott, wherever

       he may wander)

*)*

*)*

He calls on the strength of the ocean,

Fire burning in his heart

calls on the spirit world to succor

He who hath known tribulation, but not succumbed

Made stronger and wiser knows power and wisdom

Flow through the elements always there to call on

For the pure though fiery of heart

The saddened but strengthened of soul

The man who would flow with the forces of nature

In touch with the all.

*)*

*)*

*)*

Gathered on picnic table benches behind the home,

hot in sunshine. Karen explains, fact by fact, how Gus

became her inseparable soul. They beam together.

He gives consoling hand to shoulder as she grieves

children left with their father, her ex’s condemnation,

stern paternal assertion of power. Saving his kin from

this unrepentant whore. Karen cries, again – unrehearsed

habit. She carries sadness; leaks occur.

Gus hardly speaks. His troubled eyes, weary stance,

gentle pull and pass of their pint bottle as he glances with

deep countenance to each face around is eloquent conversation.

Sweat smells, condensed alcohol, burnt tobacco, drying shit from

local dogs, passing fumes from the road out front, all permeate,

help set the mood.

*)*

They treat the stranger in their midst as a friend of long

acquaintance, just another straggly member of a morphing crew.

“Ain’t we all strangers of long acquaintance – everybody a

wrapping of layers, appearing in colored bits along our drowsy

companionship. Strange friends, welcome distractions, smoky

mirrors that let us see as we discern.”

Bonnie and Denise giggle at Big Dan’s pedantic speech.

They solicit contributions for their liquor store expedition.

Enough gets thrown in to make it a go.

Go, girls. We’ll be waiting, celebrating what we can because

here we are.

*)*

*)*

*)*

 

 

Patty We Hardly Knew Ya

*)*

*)*

So they took you from your lover's home -- Steven

who treated you like a child & later wrote memoirs & told them to take

anything, but to leave him alone

& they took you.

& they locked you in a closet & used you for a media campaign to feed the

hungry.

You had never known hunger or privation.

You were a princess of the ruling class.

But you had known loneliness.

You learned, finally,

away from your university walls, about revolution.

They called you Tania & plastered your picture on front page reports & post

office billboards &

the Six O'clock News.

Your father wasn't the only Hearst

who could make the papers.

You became a phenomenon.  You became a star.

And the question on everyone's lips was:

"Where is Patty Hearst?"

& some were arrested & some were destroyed & the LA siege was just one of

many brutal episodes in a bloody war movie, but you were a star.

& all the "little people" -- the housewives & the students & the laborers of

the working class took you as their own & discussed your motives & some

applauded you & some said you deserved to be spanked & some said you were

just a pawn, but pawn or queen, you were a star -- a media heroine & no one

could ignore you as they had

ignored your wealthy and powerful family.

Month after month you led the headlines.

The FBI was embarrassed

by false leads on your whereabouts.

All those trained bloodhounds searching for one

little girl playing revolutionary.

It could have been made in Hollywood,

But never in CUBA or CHINA or Viet-Nam.

You were so bold, standing in your beret & rifle

in front of the SLA trademark

(and we still may wonder on the significance of

"Symbionese")

Robbing banks in the tradition of Dunaway and Beatty

-- a whirlwind crime spree

to the glory of the "people."

What did you know of the "people?"

Those who cheered for the circus & those who condemned you at their

mid-morning coffee breaks.

Yes, now you belonged to them --

no longer the sheltered heiress.

So they found you, the pigs, really quite by accident (the whole

investigation being a gaily colored comedy of

errors)

& brought you to "justice."

& Justice took its time-honored time drawing out the headlines --

arraignment through appeals & exposes

("New Times features Bill & Emily Harris:

at home with the fugitives")

And when they asked you for your profession on the

official forms you ingenuously proclaimed to be

"an unemployed Urban Guerrilla," which is certainly as valid as an

unemployed newspaper heiress.

And Squeaky Fromm tried to shoot the President,

but you were still America's sweetheart --

poor little rich girl gone guerrilla.

But then you were reprogrammed and reneged on your revolutionary ways.  You

cried for joy on being reunited with your "capitalist pig" parents &

the family dog --

Just like any Long Island JAP or Sacramento

newspaper heiress back from her hippie jaunt.

And they locked you in your "country club jail"

like they send a naughty child to her room --

"just to teach her a lesson."

And still the interviewers came

to continue the media comedy.

What fun you had with your "Pardon Me" teeshirt & your jailhouse romance

with your guard.

(And Jerry Ford, who Squeaky tried to shoot, had

pardoned Trickie Dick.  And Susan Ford, the First Daughter, married her

Secret Service guard.

And it was the era of Post-Watergate when nothing could be too absurd for a

world weary public worn out by the Stagflation Wars)

And Waffling Jimmy Earl of the Georgia Peanut Dynasty was in the Whitehouse.

And China was finally invading Viet-Nam

And a fast-talking Orkian

was the rage of prime time.

And discomania mixed liberally with coke and 'ludes had taken over

Amerikkka's youthful zeal.

And Werner Erhard replaced Che Guevara in ex-Yippie Jerry Rubin's heart & so

the wheel turns.

& five years after the kidnapping,

Patty Hearst finally went home.

 

...