still nothing but rumors of sale (or not) at the mill, but little else, it seems. we are still running some horrible export orders. they are actually hiring a few more people next week, as we are in the midst of a numbers crunch - more people retiring than coming in.
on some days off at the moment. trying to relax and let some rest for my sore shoulder.
today's poem is from Sept 92.
THERE ARE GHOSTS IN THE THICKETS
there are ghosts in the thickets
dancing
nimbus around the moon
& the sound of bats flying low
over the dark rancid river
my arms unable to reach eternity
as the wind whispers
theology
in a language i cannot translate precisely
& the ghosts ignore my howling
they understand
i am unable to do anything
but admire their awkward motion
the poetry and rambling thoughts of a working class poet
