no way you could know that
I have driven US 80, when
the Pennsylvania Turnpike
was considered a legitimate deathtrap,
and 80 was a god-send

shuttling back and forth tween
Cleveland (o/k/a The  Burning River City) and NYC,
in the crappiest weather man
could just about tolerate,
and 84 was just an
incomplete dream then,
so we one day,
could skip that idlewild,
Passaic, New Jersey,
back in '69

indeed the Pocono deer that
came through the windshield,
luckily, legs first,
after smashing the radiator,
that I dragged by hooves
to the side of the road,
still well recall, for that
was the first time I touched a
living thing dying in my hands

when I broke my arm in
Tannersville one summer night,
they drove me to the big city,
Scranton,
woo hoo,
cause the break was bad ,
they need to operate,
so they left me there,
w/o any anesthetic,
in the hallway(!) till morn
and a "see ya later kid,"
how they did things in a tough place
known as central Penna.,
which now I think of
semi-fondly as the place where
a piece of me was left buried
and I am still alive to swell tell

but people were tougher back then,
even me, a city 13 year old boy,
cause I had dreams of  girls,
wonderful girls, who had powers in their bodies
that could do things to me in the Poconos forests,
that were unthinkable (for them) after crossing
over the Hudson River,
and that was plenty
anesthetizing

so dem my bona fides,

and Now I Will Write
just another overdue thank you
for Balise, who writes
with a coolest heated blazing detachment,
and then at the very end,
IN ALL CAPS,
smacks you on the head
via the heart

writin'  
of
this n' that,
Mass and men,
worshipping a river called the Lackawanna,
the bleakness of a not quite grimy poverty,
(I worked in  Republic Steel warehouse)
that made grey a bright color,
and the sun was invisible from October to May,
in a world where people PROUDLY,
clung to their guns and religion,
(you arrogant out of touch Harvardian snob,
Mr. Obama prima donna),
you had to see it to believe it

of
herons and beer cans,
of parents and pain,
so exquisitely,
that I would gladly
drive to Tannersville again,
right now,
if I could, if I could,
yet learn that skill under her tutelage,
which by the by, is why some call me
still crazy, still crazy, after all those years,
crazy from a balise,
a wintry blizzard heating the readers eyes, and
who reads my footnotes
and thus
only this woman,
knows, better than she ever realized,
where his undulatin' poems come from...

Something can be true,
Regardless of who believes it.

Even if the world ended
And all men perished,

It would remain true.

Because truth does not come from the mind,
But somewhere else the mind reaches;

Which is why we discover
Laws and mathmatical equations,

Not invent them.
For the already exist;

In a third realm beyond both time and space,
A realm that governs them both.

To believe the material world is absolute,
Is to deny our own minds;

Which draw from the well
Outside of the material world

On a daily basis.

All along the rain road,
Stopped, like a solitude ray
Escaping the glooms grasp,
Along the ways aglow,
Evening,
Perhaps morning,
Mixed waters in the midst
Of a formless cloud,
      Colored grey or under
The brightest light,

A wandering mind
Never at its now,
     Only then can he be,
Occupancy time
And bellowed grief through
   Mists of thought,
And luminous it may,
How stars see city's night,
    His cloud follows into
The sun,

All along rain road
Slithered in presence,
A wet summer heat
Forms in the cab still,
      Rolling in a flutters drop...

A little introspection is vital
Now and then
To correct what needs to be corrected
To accept what needs to be accepted.

why close
    the petals of your heart
       or shrivel in gloom  
        bury the worries    
         to inhale sacred
         scents of earth
            touched be
        by comely smiles
        of blooming lilies
           and struck be
        by delightful notes
              of robins
         perched on trees
           shines 'pon us
          the sun glorious
         our precious jewel
         of radiant warmth  
     abundant peace to seek
         for our weary being
    under the protective shed
        with twinkling stars