As a guild member

normally, straight into the (meager) savings or IRA but with tax changes anyway thought I’d hold on to it for a while and for a switch dreamed and played, asking myself what I’d like to do with it? pay off on the car? (naw!) finally get a CD player, some Ives and Camerata discs, and those new Boston Acoustic speakers? (now that would be a wonderful self-indulgence!) or how about finally breaking down and getting those twelve-year-overdue cross country skis? gee, I could even finally throw in a ten-speed bike, too! not knowing what the IRS had uncovered but then, surprise

Confidentially Inga

if only to disagree with some passage the page opens more than we come expecting, now let us mud-wrestle and- see what we hate in the Lamb’s War (Ephesians) taken to your closet, taken to the street, this is not law but essential life drama where everyone’s unmasked in the story to embrace a more open stance than I’ve grown accustomed to greeting when some own up to privation lest they finally examine the Bible without the snobbery of Baltimore toward Indiana, :still there’s less resistance in burnished Boston amid some faithful, ahem, affectionately, then, let the red ink dry first

Chorro Ferdy

with neglected stretches afoot this past so jammed with rocks juts up between ferns and trees tensing into some ongoing anxiety of unseen opportunities in the day and a traipse around the Quaker burial ground in Ellicott City perceives the stone meetinghouse now a private residence : suspect it was called Elk Ridge Meeting but no proof yet : even boulders where elk roamed or buffalo now a stone enclosure under fieldstone forest before a floating worship the midweek turn here tomorrow night’s a blessing while my suburban exile draws to some close : humbly all we still share