
Some folks use the striking weed in cooking.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

Some folks use the striking weed in cooking.
we’ve seen so many seals
harbor seals, more than gray
dozens of sunning seals
today I’m beginning to spot them unprompted
against the rocks
a lazy pace
or is that leisurely
nearly full moon
through a scrim
a bald eagle in flight
and a seal swimming
the next morning
a porpoise
after passing seals
weigh, haul away
where did those porpoises go?
an osprey flew over the water
before breakfast
this could be addictive

This cluster of small islands in Fundy Bay at the tip of Campobello includes a light house that’s become invisible in this photo.
the powerful image of tree roots in a rock fissure
one I hold from Little Miami River trails in Greene County, Ohio
repeated once again along the Isinglass, in New Hampshire, just below the landfill a half-century later
the memory, all the same
My week on a schooner enlarged my vocabulary.
For instance.
I also like the term “running on one screw,” meaning propeller, except we didn’t have one.
We won’t even start talking tonnage, which seems to mean a lot for insiders.


Maine Coastal Heritage Trust

This pristine 1820’s home on Green Street overlooks Castine Bay.

The statue, a leftover from a television series set in the town, really does look much better in the yellow slicker than the blue-gray one before. But he still doesn’t look like any of the real characters I’ve encountered living here.

Just up the coast from us, what I’m told is a Canadian research vessel.
It’s what many people expect when they come to Maine, but rarely like this.

the lobster feast, of course
I had two and a hot dog
and a watermelon slice
skipped the kabobs and corn-on-cob
the cream-colored tamale
quite tasty, delightful
the obscene excess of two lobsters
without formalities
just rip and crack
imbibe

memories of Chaz telling of arranging such feasts
who as a biker in Maine
ripped the tails off
and tossed the rest
my, how I still miss him