Sunday, December 29, 2013

4881. IRREDUCIBLE REVERY

IRREDUCIBLE REVERY
The camera eye wears its makeup well  -
never squinting, it leaves no lines and has 
no marks. Movement cannot fool, just blur.
I've already arranged the school chorus to be
high for the weekend nights : together we will
sing of manners and ways and forms. 
-
There is a man with a guitar on his shoulder;
he seems to be mapping a song of the world.
I know his name as Reggie Forest and have 
spoken to him twice  -  he sings a jagged song,
of places with farms and roads. The ancient
cyclone of song goes on and on.
-
Even Pete Seeger lives at the side of a hill; right
across the roadway from where Zelda Fitzgerald
was once locked up  -  asylum, sanitarium, call
it what you will. The place still stands, and I visit.
-
Sixty years ago and some, beatniks used to hitch rides
right here, up along 9E, to get to Bear Mountain and
such places as that  -  living outdoors, nights in Summer
under the stars. Yes, yes, it's legendary. And all these
wonderful things are an irreducible revery.

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