Tumbleword

Happy Halloween

The image comes compliments of Boston Billy, a very creative (keenly moral) guy who carved last night three pumpkin hollows with his fellow witches Ms. A and Ms. K…. Beautiful work!  Boston B… too bad Mr. T wasn’t home to help … he misses you!  I miss you. 

In other places, Graveyards for instance, The Academy of American Poets sent in my email this link to finding poets in graveyards.  Yes, all poets are mere, emaciated bone clanging dancing dark hearted and somehow, dead to the world.  Not!  But if you are curious about where a favorite poet resides as in sleeps among the cobwebs and the worms on such a night as this…. well alrighty then.  Go where you fear to tread…. into the graveyard looking for the muses.

Seek beneath the link Poets in Graveyards.

 I personally miss knowing Stanley Kunitz isn’t on the earth, planting and musing with his flowers.  He is so soulful, so light, and No I don’t imagine he dwells in a cold grave… because his words are singing still, on earth.  People carry them in their hearts, in their mouths.  The first time I ever saw Stanley, as a 19 year old watching a short film of him on tv, I cried.  I couldn’t explain it. I sat there broken hearted and coming totally apart like a rag doll with rotten threads for reality.  His face ripped me open, his words planted new seed.   Same thing happened with the dancer Gregory Hines.  I saw him go around like a whirling top and I cried.  It was like I was witnessing something I had lost traveling into life.  Has that happened to you too?  Its a small hint of grace, it floods the dark corners and shocks us… There are other instances, but I will save them inside in a little box I keep tucked on the shelf of my heart, the words SECRET written in fire on its lock. 

In Mansuetude, this is my Tumbleword: Love what you love.  IT is trying to tell you something.  Also, clear the cobwebs in the inner corners of your loves.  Dust… the snow’s white cloth, its cleansing is coming to cover us in fresh white glistening the stars themselves envy. 

Also by Boston Billy –>