a tree Full of kids

Hey everyone. I heard some new music today, by a guy called William Fitzsimmons. At some moments his music sounds a lot like what I wish my music sounded like. At other moments his music just sounds really good. These are initial impressions and I invite you to disagree vigorously.

I had a lot of chores today, and I had a little of running around in the park with a dog pulling a leash pulling one arm and a laughing kid under the other arm. I can recommend the latter.

Abbie has a cute haircut and is working hard on the road trip. She would not call it work, though, because she is the product of millions of years of instinctual biological urges, all striving unconsciously to create the perfect road trip-planner. Watching her at it is like watching a great white shark devour a seal, which I have seen on T. V., except not on T. V. and therefore not in slow-motion.

Here's a poem


IN RESPONSE TO A RUMOR THAT THE OLDEST WHOREHOUSE IN WHEELING, WEST VIRGINIA, HAS BEEN CONDEMNED


I will grieve alone,
As I strolled alone, years ago, down along
The Ohio shore.
I hid in the hobo jungle weeds
Upstream from the sewer main,
Pondering, gazing.

I saw, down river,
At Twenty-third and Water Streets
By the vinegar works,
The doors open in the early evening.
Swinging their purses, the women
Poured down the long street to the river
And into the river.

I do not know how it was
They could drown every evening.
What time near dawn did they climb up the other shore,
Drying their wings?


For the river at Wheeling, West Virginia,
Has only two shores:
The one in hell, the other
In Bridgeport, Ohio.

And nobody would commit suicide, only
To find beyond death
Bridgeport, Ohio.



James Wright