passing parade, both directions, all around
young especially with airs of lusty septum rings
combat boots, woven surrounds, none of them
the American idolized Ken or Barbie
nor all of them old hippies
Tag: Travel
Righthand or lefthand rope
Or line, as they insist
right-handed cord
coil it clockwise?
left-handed, counter?
Right laid
a Z twist
versus an S twist
in the cable
coiled wrong, it will kink
potentially dangerous
where will I apply such arcane detail?
From an Airbnb we rented
first blush of autumn foliage
talk of colleagues with advancing cancer
muted morning
heavy dew of September
against a wood fire
packing up, what’s left
behind that’s ours?
Dale’s heavenly nap
As he had told me:
urchins once filled all the shoreline rocks
till the Japanese market opened up
flights from Bangor
fishery now tightly licensed
hoping for recovery
An old-fashioned farm windmill was doing whatever on one island we passed.
Booming breakers
As you see in York, Maine, the open Atlantic can get wild.
Takin’ a country train
Thorndike, traffic jammed before the train station.
I park on grass down the line
hope the engine sans heat plate doesn’t ignite a fire
one train pulls out just before I can buy my ticket
but sunny, definitely – a 25-minute delay
Old Swedish dining car
meaning prime cutting-edge 1950s
cardinal tattoos on somebody
what faint blue mountains were in the distance
before the 220 turnoff?
return trip train car sinks on one side
before leaving the festival stop
worrisome, slows the run back to terminal
its sharp curves especially front car’s detached before final run
to fairgrounds and back
Wobbly rail run
The volunteer-run Belfast & Moosehead Lake Railroad can be an adventurous ride. Here are its tracks in Thorndyke, Maine, as seen from a passenger car door.
On Eggemoggin Reach
just passed an old sardine carrier
turned private yacht
Local traffic
sardines as a reminder of where I’ve settled
when the Louis R. French was based out of Lubec
and owned by American Can in Eastport
she had an engine and no masts
faring something like this
This may seem petty but …
Do we really have to wait another year for the new Interstate 395 leg from Maine Route 9 to I-95 itself to open?
It’s only a few miles and minutes but eliminates a lot of aggravation in getting from here at the eastern edge of the country to most of the rest of the USA. That half-hour of narrow roadway competing with Canadian tractor-trailers on icy pavement plus small-town radar speed traps is an aggravating bottleneck, believe me, even before you factor in all of the Acadia National Park seasonal crush. The new route will ultimately get us around Bangor/Brewer more swiftly and maybe save us ten minutes or so at most, but on a five-hour drive that can be huge.
As it is falls back into a Trump-era vision of what’s supposed to be good at least as the fireworks and firearms retailers along the way declare.
What’s the biggest traffic hang-up you hate?
Worshiping in another Quaker Meeting
Vassalboro,
how many times I’ve driven an hour to worship,
even my own home Meeting
sunflowers outside the window
a gray morning
ten of us, now eleven
so many of the surnames from Dover
arrived here and abouts
edgewalkers
part of a message
the Zoom view of the Meeting room
shows only me
surrounded by white walls
“green walling,” a term I just learned
no, a green washing
by conniving corporations
a carpenter tells me of working on the renovations
of the schooner American Eagle
all new to me
but not for long
Jnana's Red Barn 