an olde 1987 poem, with footnotes!

and yet another 1987 poem - unsolicited. unpublished. it was written to a friend, and at the time night watchman, at Cuddeback Lumber Co ... the years have removed him from Oregon, and i have no idea where he is these days..... if you're out there, John Kn., drop me a line.

it is cooler here in the Willamette Valley today. But not cool by any means. Guess the thunder storms last night helped. at ye olde Paper Mill, this is the month, and these are the very weeks, that the management and union are supposed to start meeting/speaking to establish a new contract. Who knows what sort of joys await the rank and file. as of now, it's all speculation on what will be taken (or added? ha!) to our existing package. next week (i believe) the 4 new hires begin their orientation and training. They are scheduled to start working the week i am on vacation - the last week in July.



EPISTLE TO CAPTAIN JOHN

The future is to be.
In the dripping fog of early morning there is reaffirmation, glorious and profound.
Listen to the sounds, delicate and precious, soft as the whispers of her heart.
Listen to the sounds and understand each before dismissing them as insignificant or trivial.

The future is to be.
No matter how brilliant Hannibal planned from the concern and greatness of Carthage, the Alps and Rome still remained a difficultly too great to master.
Plans are only a short gnarly stick used to beat back the beasts of uncertainty.

The future is to be.
"The soul of man does violence to itself ..." (1)
There is apprehension in your smile.
It has the nervous twitch of someone waiting for omens that are slow in clumsy in their arrival.
And your laughter, it is nearly synthetic now, as if i it has the necessity of duplicating the perfection of machines, or someone elses genius.

The future is to be.
Look into her eyes, delicate and precious, soft as the whispers of your heart.
In all the pain to follow, in all the glory to be found, nothing will be as significant as her smile.
Nothing.

The future is to be.
"Let us not waste our time in idle discourse!" (2)
Let us dream dreams as brave as assassins believing in their holiness.
Let us hold our hearts as if they were gossamers in the wind.
There will always be dreams that struggle for existence.

The future is to be.
"There's a divinity that shapes our ends ..." (3)
Softly the rain falls.
As you stand in the confusion of the wind, along the rivers that rise and fall as your dreams, let your laughter dance across the whiskers of the beast that stalks you, deep into the peace that should be lasting and soft and hers.

(1) - from Meditations Book II - by M. Aurelius
(2) - from Waiting For Godot - by Samuel Beckett
(3) - from Hamlet - by W. Shakespeare