Friday, December 2, 2016

Thursday, December 1, 2016

GENUINE ~








There is no one like Ursula K. Le Guin, no one, when it
comes to the enthusiastic and conversational book reviewer,
the love of reading, the writers, the readers and the
freedom of speaking one's mind.

She advocates all of this.

She practices.

Read her.


Published by a brave press 
from Easthampton, Massachusetts
S M A L L      B E E R      P R E S S
150 Pleasant Street
01027




Wednesday, November 30, 2016

THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE ~







"The Friends of Eddie Coyle is the most powerful
and frightening crime novel that I have read this
year. It will be remembered long after the year is
over, as marking the debut of a fine original talent."

R O S S     M A C D O N A L D


My copy of this great yarn with its kick in the head dialogue throughout is this cheap-o book club edition long after my original
copy was lent out and never returned and then my dog-eared paperback that was obviously enjoyed by many readers or one dog of a reader before me, and if the book isn't enough to satisfy your lust, do go to the film version starring a terrific and rumpled cast including Robert Mitchum as Eddie Coyle. Who else could have been "Eddie fingers?!" No one, not even close.
The director of the film, Peter Yates, British-born with a keen eye and ear to bloody America, made Bullitt in 1968 with this equal masterpiece in 1973. 





Tuesday, November 29, 2016

THE UNKNOWN KEROUAC ~





The Library of America 2016







"More than a rock in my belly, I have a waterfall in my brain;
a rose in my eye, a beautiful eye; and what's in my heart but a
mountainside, and what's in my skull; a light. And in my throat
a bird. And I have in my soul, in my arm, in my mind, in my
blood, in my bean a grindstone of plaints which grinds rock
into water, and the water is warmed by fires, and sweetened by
elixirs, and becomes the pool of contemplation of the dearness
of life. In my mind I cry. In my heart I think. In my eye I love.
In my breast I see. In my soul I become. In my shroud I will
die. In my grave I will change."

J A C K      K E R O U A C
1950 "Private Philologies"







Monday, November 28, 2016

TREASURE ~










Solo





I find

New stars —

New designs —

Without the

Chart in

My hands






Vow





                                          You can think there is

                                          But there is nothing

                                          Quite like you undressing

                                          Me who has undressed you









Treasure



it’s snow

falling



into her

hair



pail of

grain



pinning

onto a



heavy

wool



shirt

walking



back from

the hen



house

eggs



inside her

mittens







Thread




Take a blanket of red wool

Fold it into a cushion square

Beside flames of the wood fire

Where lamplight of the room

Falls the best, and right there

In the heat, away from winter

With your loom of sanded birch

I’ll watch you weave the moon

Stars, river and mountains

From a trail we’re on of thread




                   ———————————

Bob Arnold

Once In Vermont

Gnomon





        "Bride"
photo ~ bob arnold