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Before the leaves

4/26/2017

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Just before the leaves popped out, Linda and I found this beautiful bit of nature south of Wallacetown. And right away she discovered a big patch of very-rare burgundy trilliums! She was so happy! Trilliums are one of her favourite flowers.
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إبراهيم أشعياء عوض burgundy Trilliums are a welcome change from the plain white ones!

Heather Roberts Cadsby Lovely! They are known as wakerobin and are, to put it politely, ill-scented.

Stan Burfield Ah. Thanks. I'll tell her.
Stan Burfield Here's where we were if anyone wants to check out the Trilliums or the trees or both. https://www.google.ca/.../data=!3m6!1e1!3m4...

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Linda and I went for a meander through Euston Park: 

4/15/2017

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Picture
I clamber down 
to the stream, grabbing 
small branches to not slide 
in the mud, and am stopped, mesmerized, 
by all the little slipping arcs of 
​light that glide along the flow; 
then walk 
across the wobbling
water on a bouncing 
trunk, jump 
to a rock, up the bank, boots 
on steps of snaking gnarly roots.

Stand still 
in the quiet--

(From "Too Early for Leaves")

Linda sat on a log there and I sat next to her. In time, she wandered off. I stayed, pulling out a small book of Walt Whitman’s poems. But I was ready to pocket it again, as I assumed its small white pages would contract my mind, reduce it, the last kind of experience I wanted out there. Instead, as I focussed on the words from that open, all-encompassing mind, my own mind seemed to expand into the forest around me, without looking up at it. I became part of the forest instead of an observer, with the Cardinals calling to each other and all the old leaves from last year on the ground at my feet. 

A NOISELESS, patient spider, 
I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated; 
Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding, 
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself; 
Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them. 5

And you, O my Soul, where you stand, 
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space, 
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them; 
Till the bridge you will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold; 
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

​--Whitman

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At 67, I'm astonished how little I've changed!

1/31/2017

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Picture
After nearly seven decades of struggling through a very real world, a world I was never able to change to suit my peculiarities, but rather one in which I was forced to change myself in order to survive--not to mention thrive--I would expect to be a very different person coming out of all that than I was going in.

Rummaging through a box of ancient odds and ends from my early life, I uncovered a little black notebook containing sixteen pages of diary, beginning Oct. 16, 1966. I was sixteen years old then, just a sprout, leafless, totally dependent. And there on page two, after a general description of our farm, our family, and my life as a child, I described myself:
​

“All this has led up to what I am, which isn’t anything special. Out of the ordinary—yes—but special—no. I am somewhat ambitious and have a craving to learn. My ambition is to be a biologist, although that does not mean I won’t end up being a ditch digger. I have a theory (I am always making theories) as to why I am like this. I may as well put it down here, even though it will not interest anyone but myself, in later years. There are quite a few reasons why I have this ambition and will to learn….” And I go on for FIVE PAGES describing why I loved to learn things. Not the things themselves, but why! Theories! It wasn’t enough that I had to understand why other things existed, and how they worked. No. I suddenly put down my books and ideas and asked myself what was going on in my own head. Why did I want to know all these things? And so then I worked on that problem, as if it were about the deer in the forest, solved it, and then went back to everything else. And I’m still doing that. After sixty-seven years. Constantly. Every day. Every hour of every day. And now that I’ve just written that (“Constantly. Every day. Every hour of every day.”), once again, fifty-one years later, I look at those phrases and automatically wonder why. All over again. Why constantly? Why every hour of every day? So here I am, right now, re-analyzing the theories I wrote in those five pages, and adding ones I hadn’t thought of then. Re-weighing, balancing, re-working the percentages. I can’t help it. That’s just who I am. I haven’t changed a bit.


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September 23rd, 2016

9/23/2016

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​Out of a harsh thing, something great!

Picture
Yesterday I had a run of fatigue that was obviously caused by one of the pills I've just started taking for atrial fibrillation. Then this morning I woke early and couldn't get back to sleep, so I knew that, between the two sources of tiredness, I was in for another rough day, probably worse than yesterday.

Nevertheless, having just woken up, I didn't feel too bad yet, neither tired not anxious, so I quickly decided to do as much of my stress-inducing open mic work as I could, in one fell swoop, and get it over with before the fatigue and the anxiety of doing it caught up with me.

And I did: five things, including one that was tanglingly complicated and one that was major, all in about two hours. By then, even though the stress was noticeable, and the sleepiness was setting in, I felt free of all the bad jobs, and satisfied, and the rest of the day was mine. So obviously I had hit upon something and decided to do it this way in the future--stressful jobs first thing. Then, if nothing else, I would at least get my open mic work done, atrial fibrillation or not.

Another great idea followed from that. A couple weeks before, I had created my latest daily organisation chart, something I do occasionally to try to get myself a little more organised and productive, but which always proves to be a big failure. I just can never seem to get myself to plan my days and then actually follow the plans, doing one little thing at one time and another at another time. My latest chart had me working on 2,5 hours of poetry in the morning and 2,5 hours of novel writing in the afternoon, each preceded by and followed by open mic jobs. But even if my health problem hadn't injected itself, I know I wouldn't have been able to discipline myself enough anyway.

Now, after seeing that I had to do all my stressful jobs in the morning, to make sure I would do them at all, it occurred to me that I could simply assign the rest of the day to one major project, instead of chopping it up into robotic pieces, and tackle that one thing whenever I was up to it and for as long as it felt good. One project a day, no set hours. Wow, why didn't I think of that decades ago? (Well, because until I was retired, my one project had always been work, of course.)

The follow-up question is, won't the medication-induced fatigue prevent work on that one project? I don't think so. I can take naps to revive myself. And/or meditate. Then there's stubbornness and determination. And anyway, creation always seems to produce its own energy out of thin air: So this will be an interesting experiment to see if that energy, which is always so weirdly unexpected, can overcome the fatigue of medication!

I'm already getting energy just from the unexpected creation of these life-changing ideas. I would never have expected that I could squeeze such good stuff out of what should be a big downer, having my first mini-stroke!
Photo: Me at 20. Time keeps doing its thing and I keep doing mine.



​
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Carol Reid You're onto something!
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Linda Eva Williams Sweet Stan, you work so hard at understanding. And still retain your sense of humour. By the way, what are you doing in this pic? I keep wanting to see a mic.
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Stan Burfield I think a relative was over and I was having a conversation. It was Christmas time.
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Linda Eva Williams You? Conversing??
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Stan Burfield Bizarre but true. I can even remember who it was with. A cousin from New Zealand.
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Larry Burfield You sure remind me of your sister in this photo.
Like · Reply · 7 September at 00:34

Stan Burfield Interesting. That never would have occurred to me.
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Karen Troxler Thanks for sharing, it might help other procrastinators, like moi!
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Mr. Moon comes rolling in.

9/17/2016

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When we lived on Gabriola Island, I went wandering down the road one fine Harvest-Moon night, enjoying the moonlit landscape under that deep purple sky, the banks of trees and a farmer's field that was not too far from our half acre.

At some point, a pretty girl who was also out wandering by herself saw the light glancing off my eyes as I looked up at the huge moon and said, "Nice, isn't it?" Girls on Gabriola, especially the hippy girls, of which Gabriola has a large population, tend not to be too afraid of old guys they bump into out on a dark country road at night.

​
I said, "Yeah, it's a harvest moon tonight."

She looked at me quizzically, like we had known each other for years, and said, "What exactly is a harvest moon?"

"Well," I said, as if I were an older relative of hers, "it's nothing special really, just the full moon that happens to be the closest to the autumn equinox, which is September 22nd, I think."

"Oh!" She looked up at it again. Then she cocked her head with that same quizzical look and said, "Why do you know all this about it?"

We were both warming to our little conversation out there in that eerily-bright light and cool evening scent of fall. So I told her the whole story. "My father grew up on a homestead out on the prairie in Alberta. All they had was grain crops and a little hay. At harvest time, somebody who owned a big threshing machine would move it onto each farm, one after the other, as soon as the grain was ready to harvest. All the guys from all the farms would come in with their wagons and teams of horses and work as late into the night as they possibly could, throwing all the sheaves of grain onto their wagons and then line them up at the threshing machine and toss them in, to separate the seeds from the straw, and then they would head back out to bring more in, and keep at it into the night until they either fell asleep standing up or that farm was all done. Then they would move the threshing machine to the next farm, and so on, and try to get all the farms done before it rained. They would do it all day and then into the night during the harvest moon and during as many nights as they could see well enough on each side of the harvest moon to get it all done as quickly as possible."

She listened intently, then said, "Wow. So now I know." And she gave me a big smile and walked off down the road into the night.
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How can I and London Open Mic both survive?

8/19/2016

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Picture
I’ve been trying to decide whether I should stay on as organizer of London Open Mic Poetry. I recently had a mini-stroke, which was largely caused by stress. And organizing the open mic, together with its related events, has caused me far more stress these last four years than I should have put myself through at my age. So, if I’m going to survive this adventure, I must either quit right now or seriously manage my stress level.
 
And stress isn’t the only cause of strokes and heart disease. There are three main factors involved.
 
The big one is diet. Actually I eat quite well. I’m addicted to fruit so I eat a lot of it, and I love vegetables as well. Both are good for the arteries. And, luckily, hamburger is revolting to me, and I’m not crazy about any other kind of beef either. I eat chicken breast (which is not too bad) but only because I always thought I had to eat some kind of meat. My big downfall is ice cream, but I do a fairly good job of restraining myself.
 
Exercise is the second big factor. Well, most days I climb the ten flights of our apartment building. Plus, I do a lot more walking than most people do. So I’m okay exercise-wise.
 
Stress is my big problem. I’ve always been quite anxious, both generally and from shyness. But my stress-load has escalated dramatically these last four years because I’ve been trying to break out of my shyness by confronting my fears of people head on. It’s worked; I’ve lost most of my shyness, and was nearly anxiety-free during the last couple of events. However, at the time I had my mini-stroke I was worried that Linda might have pancreatic cancer. It turned out to be something else, as yet unknown, but, at the time, I was very stressed out by the possibility. And, when the stroke happened, I was on the 9th flight up and pushing myself too hard.
 
Quitting the open mic should be my obvious next move, even though the organization isn’t quite ready to carry on without me. Two of our most important people have had to leave the city—Shelly Harder and Koral Scott. And we need more time to figure out how it should be led, probably by more than one person. No matter, my personal survival is obviously a lot more important than these petty problems.
 
What I’ve decided to do, nevertheless, at least for now, is to carry on, and change my lifestyle as much as possible at the same time.
 
When I'm exercising, I’m not going to push myself at more than the equivalent of a brisk walk. And I’m taking the correct amount of Aspirin, a blood thinner, just in case. And I’m dramatically reducing my stress load. If you’re curious how I’m going to do that, here’s the list:
 
  1. I’m keeping an eye on my anxiety level all the time, and stepping out of what I’m doing when I feel it go up. This is big, and my mini-stroke provides continuous motivation to keep me monitoring it.
  2. I’m using a Weekly Diary now, so that the full week is open on my desk in front of me all the time. At the bottom of the 2 pages of the week, I’m keeping a list of all the week’s to-dos. Then I enter each into the appropriate day, so I can see them continuously and not have to worry.
  3.  More importantly, for everything I have to do, looking ahead at two month’s worth of events, at everything leading up to and following each one, I’m entering them all in the appropriate days, including when to begin work on them and the deadlines, all well in advance. And any other odd things I have to do are all entered into their days, well in advance, as well. This may seem obvious, but just having them in the book means I don’t have to be constantly worrying if I’m forgetting something, or if I’m late with something. This worry by itself causes a tremendous amount of stress, which builds to burnout by the end of the season.
  4. I’m getting other committee members to do as much as I can get them to do, to take some of the load off me.
  5. As difficult as this one may be, I’m going to restrain myself from coming up with new ideas. I’m good at this, and really enjoy it, but inevitably I have to do most of the work on each one myself. So from now on, the new ideas will belong to other people. They think them up, present them to me, I smile, and they do them.
  6. Meditation. I’ve intended to do this most of my life but have never kept at it for more than a few days. Now’s the time to get into it for good. Something new. A REAL lifestyle change.
 
And quite some time ago I read that it is possible to actually reverse hardening of the arteries, but it’s not easy because all three of the big causal factors have to be tackled simultaneously: diet, exercise and stress. I’m determined.
 
So there it is. I and the open mic will survive, hopefully, and carry on. AND, because of these changes, I will enjoy the whole thing a lot more than I have. It’s not easy to really enjoy anything that causes too much stress.


​

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Scott Alderson Sounds like you are aware of the changes you need to make to ensure longevity. My own experience with writers groups and volunteer organizations is that they carried on without me because I had created them to be viable without me. I suspect you have done the same. Shyness is difficult to overcome and prevents many great writers from becoming known. Face it, we are naked behind our words when on podium or stage. I took comfort in the hundreds of dead poets that had walked my road before me when I was a busker in Calgary. To quote the band Kansas, "Carry on my wayward son"
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Stan Burfield Good attitude, Scott.
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Larry Burfield Some good planning. I am quite similar in character, and find deadlines are always stressful. I try and stay away from them as much as possible, but some are going to happen. I find taking time to reflect about the good things in our half full glass help me at distressing, and let go of things I can not change, but are going to happen if I can change it or not, and the world does not stop because I can't change it. Life has given us a lot of things to be thankful for!
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Stan Burfield That's especially good advice for me!
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Wendi Waters At this moment I realized how much I've taken London Open Mic Poetry. All I have to do is show up. I never thought much about all the organizing that goes on behind the scenes. You've done an amazing job and I, for one, am very grateful. I was very impressed the few times I attended and hope I can step up to give you a hand in the fall. In fact, I am moving to the apartments across the street from Mykonos. So, I hope you ask me for help because I am offering to do what I can, Stan!
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Stan Burfield Great! We'll see how it all goes. Thanks, Wendi!
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Wendi Waters Ok, first sentence supposed to read: At this moment I realized how much I've taken London Open Mic Poetry FOR GRANTED, lol!
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Amy Lavender Harris You deserve to be able to enjoy good health. XO.
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Stan Burfield That's how I see it too. :)
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Meredith Moeckel I really appreciate you sharing your de-stressing plans with us fellow stress ridden folks (Like ME, unfortunately!). I've heard that stress is responsible for approximately 90% of deaths in the US (and I'm sure that it goes without saying that they're referring to illnesses made worse by stress! SCARY!) I am also an extremely anxious person, and sometimes it comes on quite viciously & for no apparent reason, which is really irritating bigtime!! I too want to (re) learn how to meditate, and thankfully there are MANY great sites online where one can learn proper (and some different) techniques. I'll bet that I've signed up for online mediation courses at least 20 +/- times over the past few years, but for whatever reason, I never followed through with any of them. While on this topic, are you already good at meditating, or are you going to take any refresher courses? If the latter, perhaps you can share which site you sign up with (and you can PM me if you like for this info). On another topic, I've asked my primary care doctor if it's good to take a baby aspirin a day, but he maintains that it's not necessary (I asked him about this long time ago, obviously, to help prevent what you went through, or worse!). I've been meaning to research this on my own, but perhaps you can share the reasons that your doctor might have shared w/ you for taking one.....Lastly, I agree with Larry's comment above about letting go of the things we cannot change or control! I have worked diligently to NOT even allow myself to spend energy worrying about things/people I have no control over (Especially @ night when worrying about others!). Sometimes it's not easy to remember to "Let Go, Let God", but it's definitely worth remembering!!! Take care, and good luck!! :)
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Larry Burfield Meredith, I can relate to a lot of your comments. Re baby aspirin, I was on that for many years. I was diagnosed in 1973 with very high blood pressure, when I was taking a job application medical (225/149) Needless to say I ended up in hospital to find out why, and they never came up with an absolute answer. So the pill companies have loved me ever since. After my stroke 4 years ago, they put me on stronger blood thinners, and a bleed and bruise easy now but I am alive and "smelling the flowers" When coming back to my room and needing a ceiling hoist and a sling to get from my bed to my wheel chair at first, and absolutely no movement in my left arm for over 3 weeks, I feel very fortunate to be able to enjoy life now. Life is not perfect, and I realize I cant make it that way. I would still like to, and have ideas, but nobody knows if they would work. I am able to enjoy my 5 grandchildren, and going to Alberta at the end of this month to celebrate a couple of their birthdays. Since retiring in 2008, I have resided in BC
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Stan Burfield (Just got back from a going-away party for Shelly Harder.)....Nice to hear both of your stories in dealing with stress. Meredith Moeckel, I'm the kind of person who tends not to ask for advice until I just can't do something on my own, so I've never taken a meditation course, and probably never will. But I have plenty of experience because that's how I often get to sleep at night: I meditatle lying down, and suddenly it's morning. So I'm just doing that sitting up now. :)...By the way, I think you're a lot more anxious than I am. The best thing for someone with your level of anxiety is to take a course of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. It really does work for bad anxiety. Meditation would help you keep yourself at that new level of anxiety once the therapy got you there. The best way is to go to a professional therapist, but you can get it in book form (do it yourself) on Amazon. There are several good ones. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy is the only form of therapy for anxiety, depression, etc, that really works. And well. The other therapiesdo to some extent, with some people, often only with the right therapist, etc. .....About Aspirin, if you don't have high blood pressure, it doesn't do you any good, because your arteries aren't reduced in size to the point where a tiny blood clot could block them where they enter the brain or the heart muscle. And you seem to be fairly slim, so you probably don't have hypertension. I was just 30 pounds over the weight I am now and I had quite high blood pressure and had to take pills for it. Then I lost the 30 pounds and my blood pressure came down to normal and I came off the pills. But I'm still about 20 pounds above where I should be, and that combined with high stress and high physical exertion put the blood clot in the artery in my brain. You probably don't have the extra weight, or the extra exertion. Just the stress. But still, with that amount of stress, I would think it would be a good thing to take one baby Aspirin anyway. But your doctor should be able to tell. And you would for sure have to tell him about your stress level. Anyway, for me, even though I have normal blood pressure now, I still had that mini-stroke, so now I'm on two baby Aspirins a day, instead of the one as before.
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Stan Burfield Larry Burfield, as I mentioned to Meredith, my blood pressure went from high to normal just by getting my weight down. I think being overweight is the biggest cause of all these problems. I don't know if your doctor told you that. I think that often they don't bother because they've given up on trying to get people to lose weight. I found out how to do it, if you're interested. I think there's only one way that works, which I happened to stumble on. And it's surprisingly easy done that way.
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Elli Kritikos Hope you're doing well I hope you decide what needs to be done health or your passion take care of yourself👍🏼
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Andrew Thomas Awad Meditation has always helped me to cope with stress, wishing you, good health and prosperity.
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Yvonne Maggs Sounds like you know what you are doing, so keep up the good work...
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Carol Reid This all sounds good, good planning, new directions, fewer initiatives, healthy eating, stress management - it can be done, I salute you and understand that it isn't simple or easy. Meditation is simply breathing in and out, you can do it anywhere under any circumstances, lecturing, driving, whatever. If you are interested in autogenic breathing, can give you some pretty goods links. Good luck with all your efforts, Stan.
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Stan Burfield Thanks. Never heard of autogenic breathing. I would be interested.
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Violetta Josefina Martinez Good for you! Nothing is easy...
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I'm now a published poet! I guess it's about time.

8/7/2016

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My poem is coming out in the anthology, Another London, to be published by Harmonia Press this fall. It’s only the second time I’ve ever submitted a poem for publication. The first time was about 25 years ago, to Descant Magazine, which sent back a letter saying they would publish it if I would just cut out some of the fat first. I could see what they meant but never got around to it, or to ever trying to get another poem published until now.

Why now? Because I couldn’t resist the idea of this anthology, and I can’t wait to get my copy. Imagine: an extremely diverse group of poems written by a very diverse assortment of poets, all about this one small city, and living in it! How could anyone not want to read that?

My poem is a description of my experience taking part in the Guerrilla Poetry aspect of last November’s Words Festival of the Creative and Literary Arts. Tom Cull, who has just now become the city’s new Poet Laureate, created this very weird, strange and scary (for such a shy person as me) event. Four little groups of readers ventured out on the streets of downtown London to startle unprepared pedestrians with poetry. My group contained Tom, Andy Verboom (who is now a member of London Open Mic’s organizing committee), and a wonderful, humourous reader named Aileen House.

Prior to the event, two Facebook friends, Donald Brackett and Al Broudy, suggested I read Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and so I did, two poems called Dog and Underwear. They were perfect for the situation. I had never read Ferlinghetti before and one of the pleasures of the event for me was reading a lot of his poems in advance, as well as ones by other poets I had never touched before. Reading them casually, just to see if they would be appropriate, instead of tackling their intricacies and profundities with as much mental force and energy as I could muster, which is my normal reading strategy, allowed me to just enjoy them, to let them sneak up on me and go, “BOO!” So now I read poetry like that all the time, on my first reading, and then bear down on the second. Big lesson.
​
Plus, I and my shyness survived doing it.

I AM STANDING ON A CRATE READING LAWRENCE FERLINGHETTI

I am here now. This
is no longer an alternate future, or someone else's.
I am stretched up tight on this crate
looking down at these 
slow-moving bodies,
my spine hard against
the stone edge
of Starbuck's window wall,
buffeted by wind and buses
that bellow around this cold corner--
this dark Richmond and Dundas
where I would not be.

Yet I am only two barefoot beatnik blocks down
from City Lights Book Shop
nicely named for Ferlinghetti's own,
in Frisco way back then.

And now up on the crate I too am wearing
that F-beard in which he preached to his
beat colleagues passion
for all these dead poor
these no fame no friends
these leaning here into the slow tide of the block
drifting through time's 
pool out of jail for a while
getting by as if free
maybe trying
to like each other or one or some.

I am calm standing on this crate,
wearing this body here now
like someone else's or no one's--

and anyway no one looks at me; my eyes
are always in the book, my ears on my sonorous
voice; and elsewhere
with Ferlinghetti
enticing his empathetic, liberal
poet friends:

"Let's go
Come on
Let's go
Empty out our pockets
and disappear,
Missing all our appointments..."

No one hears. 
And these, with no appointments
to miss, don't care. 
His friends aren't here.

Even so, we few crate poets
yes we have left our safe homes
our cars in the overnight lots
our cell phones in our pockets
and like Ferlinghetti we do our hour
up on our soap boxes
dropping loud words 
down into the block.



​

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Yeah!!! I'm finally a published poet!

8/6/2016

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I just got word back from Andreas Gripp & Carrie Lee Connel,
the editors of the anthology, Another London, that they've accepted my poem "I am standing on a crate reading Lawrence Ferlinghetti".

I'm off for my MRI now. I'll dig it out and post it when I get back.


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Well, the MRI is done. 

8/6/2016

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The technician said, "Are you claustrophobic?" "No." "Put these ear plugs in. It's quite loud." "Okay." "Try not to move your head." "Okay." She shoved pads down both sides of my head to hold it in place and lowered a face mask over me. I felt like a deep-sea diver. She gave me a squeeze ball to hold with my left hand and shouted in at me: "Just squeeze this anytime and it will all be stopped." As the bed, and my head, began sliding into that big mouth, she said, "It'll only take a minute." It took about five. I wasn't anxious, except that I didn't know HOW still I had to hold my head. Could I even swallow? So, in the middle of this overwhelming experience I closed my eyes and set myself the task of trying to figure that out. Working out the various factors. Thinking. It's so relaxing. Being myself, doing my thing. I drifted into another space; I was no longer there. Until she said something tinny on the microphone and the bed started moving out. No problem, except that I forgot where the change room was, and then how to get out of there.

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Medical Update, for those interested

8/5/2016

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Here’s what happened: On Monday I was doing my usual stair climb. I think I was on the ninth flight of stairs, out of ten. By #8 I had been puffing heavily. I always slow down when that happens, so as not to get a heart attack in the stairwell. But I guess I was still pushing it too hard. My right leg went partially numb. At the same time there was a strange kind of numb feeling in my head (inside my brain?).

The leg didn't go completely numb and I was able to get to the apartment and sit down. It lasted about three minutes. Luckily, I immediately recognized it as a mini-stroke, so looked it up on the internet. It said to get to the hospital without delay. I took a cab and was in a bed within half an hour of it happening. (They ushered me right in, past a huge room full of waiting people!)

A nurse took ten phials of blood; another did an ultrasound of the arteries in my neck that lead into my brain, into me. The next day I went back and they slid me through the big CT Scanner.

The doctor said they found a tiny enlargement in my cortex, in an area that indicated it was probably caused by a blood clot from my heart. The CT Scan wasn’t detailed enough to be sure, so tomorrow I will go in for an MRI scan. (Which I would love to watch on the screen. Not too many people’s minds ever get the opportunity to see themselves!) Then, a couple days later, I go for an echocardiogram, which is an ultrasound of my heart, I guess to look for the source of the blood clot, and maybe also to see if a heart attack might be imminent as well. They’ll also attach a monitor to my chest to watch my heart rhythms over 48 hours.

And all because of only three minute
s of numbness! Since then, nothing else has happened, thankfully. And the stroke doesn’t seem to have produced any side effects in me. So this is the best possible outcome: a very real occurrence that leaves no damage but nevertheless is loud enough to get me to change my lifestyle.

The doctor, a stroke specialist, gave me a sheaf of notes he had put together on how to prevent further strokes, which included a lot of vegetarian recipes. Essentially, he said, our meat and ice cream diets are the main causes of strokes--and heart attacks. Followed closely by lack of exercise and stress.

Well, I probably eat better than the average Canadian (loving fruit and vegetables and not caring much for meat), and probably even do better-than-average exercise-wise. That leaves stress.

So I’m making some big changes.

In terms of food, I’m aiming towards being a vegetarian, cutting fats and meats, but also, in the interests of health, cholesterol, sugar, and salt. As much as possible, anyway, without becoming a fanatic. I would have already been a vegetarian except that Linda is such a carnivore. But now, because of the big medical scare she had gone through just before I had my stroke (which caused me to worry so much about her that I had the stroke), she has totally changed her eating habits. Now she’s really getting into foods she has always avoided like the plague. So it will be a lot easier for me to change too.

(In case you are a believer in the health benefits of lots of protein and/or fats, the latest large-scale studies show that of the three diets—high protein, high carbohydrates, and high fats—only the high carbohydrate diet increases the life span of the people who live on it. Both of the others reduce the average life span. You can find the studies on the internet.)

In terms of exercise, I’m going to increase it, not decrease it, but not push the aerobics too hard. Keeping it to the pace of a brisk walk will be good for me and shouldn’t kill me.

In terms of stress, I have to make a lot of changes. Whether or not I keep organizing the open mic, I’m not sure of yet. I would like to see it carry on when I quit.

Until I quit, there are a lot of things I can do to reduce my stress load. For starters, I’ve been terrible at organizing myself and my usage of time. Doing it properly is largely a matter of continually writing in a calendar the things that have to be done, when they have to be finished, when started, and when each aspect of them should be worked on to get them done in time. And all this needs to be done two events in advance because the work on them overlaps. I’ve always tried (but never succeeded) to get myself to do this properly. Consequently, I’m always worrying about whether I’m missing things, or if I’m getting them done on time. That worry causes continuous stress, a stress that builds up over time. By the end of the season, I’m burnt out from it.

Another thing I’m going to stop doing is two things at once. Any two things, even simple things like having the TV on while I’m writing something on the computer. Or even having music on while I’m working. Or carrying on a conversation while I’m doing anything. Etc, etc. I’ve noticed that part of my brain suffers tremendous stress from continually trying to sort it all out. (I imagine it doesn’t work this way in extreme extroverts, who need a lot happening just to stay awake.)

I see Linda several times a day sitting out on the balcony meditating. During these times, I have to be careful not to disturb her, which is difficult when she’s there all alone in that beautiful balcony room she’s created, looking out over the green trees of the city, seemingly just waiting to have a good conversation. Instead, I watch and learn the value of meditation. And now, finally, I’m going to join her. After a lifetime of tiny attempts. Hopefully, meditating will stop the stress from building through the day.
​
Our lives are mostly composed of a steady stream of risks, along with a steady stream of attempts to minimize them. In other words, we live on hope. I’ve reached the point where the next failed risk will likely end my life. So from now on it has to be all or nothing.

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Yesterday I had a mini-stroke.

8/2/2016

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It was a warning. And now Linda and I have both had powerful shots across the bow, both in the last few days.

Just before my stroke, I was afraid Linda might have the worst cancer going, pancreatic. Luckily it turned out to be something else, we’re not sure what yet, but if it had been pancreatic cancer she wouldn’t have had more than a year to live.

In my case, I certainly didn’t think I was close to being stroke material. For a long time, my diet and exercise habits have been better than average. But I’ve ignored the big third factor, stress, at my peril. Actually, instead of reducing it in my retirement, I’ve dramatically increased my stress load by becoming a social organizer, not an easy job for a shy person. During the open mic’s first couple of years, my stress was often so high I worried about having a heart attack. But I got through that. And finally, during the last season, the fourth, I felt like I was coasting: I was much less shy, thanks to forcing myself out into the social world all that time, and I seemed to be less anxious in general. However, it looks like that kind of long-term stress builds itself into the body; it’s very telling that it was during this last week of worry about Linda that I had this mini-stroke.
​
Anyway, we’ve both survived, and now we’re seriously working on our lives, hoping to reverse these problems before it’s too late. And that is possible. People who survive their first heart attack or mini-strokes often live long healthy lives simply because they start off in a fresh new direction after hitting rock bottom.


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We being ourselves.

7/30/2016

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Old age has its benefits. For instance, it makes it a lot easier to answer the question "Who am I?".

When they're old, people have a lot more data to look at than they did when they were young. They have a lifetime's worth of very personal reactions to situations, reactions that other people might not have made, or made differently. And no longer are they struggling to be somebody other than whom they really are, some more perfect someone that they think society wants them to be. Time for that has run out. The deadlines have been reached. The tests have been marked and returned. Old people can finally stop, look at the collected evidence, and say, "Ah."

Linda and I have both lived fairly rough lives, but we've been very lucky in that we've been able to be ourselves all the way along. Neither of us ever developed any ability to pretend to be other people. For some, it's just the opposite. The pressures of life are such that they never get a break from pretending.

So, in the end, Linda and I only had to collect our memories to see who we are. And resign ourselves to them. We didn't have to first strip off artificial personas we had built up over our lifetimes.

I think it's very difficult to work your way out of a trap like that. You have two different tasks to accomplish, not just one, and both are extremely difficult. First, you have to convince yourself you're not the person you've spent a lot of time and effort convincing yourself you are. And, second, you have to try to be your true self when you have no idea what that is.

Well, here's a (probably dumb) idea that has a slight chance of working. Instead of concentrating on trying to be oneself, maybe a person could do it the other way around. They could try to stop being anything they've copied from others, then see what's left.

If anybody gets inspired to try this, I'd be very curious to hear how it goes.
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Linda and I are suddenly feeling enormous relief, especially Linda!

7/28/2016

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We just got back from the doctors, with the results from her ultrasound and blood tests. And NOTHING!!!

Most importantly, she has no pancreas problems, the worst possibility of all being pancreatic cancer, and death within a year. Not even pancreatitis. And no liver problems. And no kidney problems, which the symptoms all seemed to point to, assuming the pancreas weren't at fault. There were NO blood or ultrasound findings for any of these!

And yet she still has terrible, continual pain and burning, and has had for a long time now. So it has to be something. But whatever it is, it's not as serious as we were imagining. From here it's a process of elimination. The first possibility to eliminate is "nerve pain", from a damaged or squeezed nerve from the spine. Apparently, that could cause the same symptoms.

But in any case, now Linda can finally relax and stop worrying about her life. Walking downtown from the doctor's to indulge in her first normal meal since she's been on her extremely restrictive diet, she suddenly threw her arms up in the air and said, with a big smile, "I feel like a totally new woman!!", and, as it sank in, "Now you and I might have another twenty years together!"


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She sings!

7/27/2016

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I vaguely recall having said something nice to Linda, in a fun tone of voice. The next time we passed in the hall, she suddenly swung around me and looked up with those big eyes and bigger smile and sang this:

"I JUST want to
SQUEEZE you
TEASE you
aMUSE you,
my darLING."

Astonished that she was actually singing the refrain from some song, which she never does, I asked where she got it.
"Nowhere. I just made it up."
​

"Wow," I said. "That was nice."



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Paul Branton so you ain't the only poet
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Stan Burfield seems so!
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I'm looking forward to putting London Open Mic Poetry behind me,

7/18/2016

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I'm looking forward to putting London Open Mic Poetry behind me, so as to have more time to spend with Linda and my own projects. I don't know when just yet, but events are moving me in that direction.

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Jf Pickersgill This specific tension often arises for organizers of regular literary events such as yours. It takes time and effort that is often underestimated by others -- including those who enjoy the monthly readings -- or that simply goes along with less recognition than is merited. Personal life pulls in another direction, too. One thing I would say from personal experience ... when the time comes, pulling back *for now* does not necessarily mean pulling back *forever* ... you might come back to it. Best solution all around? Find someone else to do all the tasks entailed in convening the monthly series ... but ... I do strongly acknowledge that is not always a realistic possibility.
Like · Reply · 4 · 18 July at 15:00

Stan Burfield Thanks, JF. Good points. From the beginning I've tried to get other people involved in it, forming an "organizing committee" with the main idea that there will be interested and committed others to carry it on. Let's hope it works out that way. I've discovered, however, that there is a huge difference between the mental attitude of starting something and making it happen, and the other of helping. But these are mature young people who may be able to pick up their game.
Like · Reply · 5 · 18 July at 15:29

Patricia Black Sorry to hear Stan that you're moving on - for now - and I wish you and Linda very well. Thank you for your outstanding devotion to the Open Mic. We hope others will be willing to carry on - you have put so much time, energy and love into it.
Like · Reply · 2 · 19 July at 00:22

Stan Burfield Thanks so much, Patricia!
Like · Reply · 19 July at 00:25


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Orange-oatmeal cookies!

7/16/2016

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Picture
Linda is on a super-strict no-fat, no-oil diet until she gets the problem with her pancreas diagnosed. So we found some vegan no-oil recipes. She made these scrumptious cookies.
http://www.fatfree.com/recip…/cookies/orange-oatmeal-cookies
Date: Wed, 28 Jun 1995 11:09:21 -0400

From: SusanaR151@aol.com
Orange Oatmeal Cookies
2 whole egg whites
1 ripe banana
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup thawed orange juice concentrate
1-1/2 cup oatmeal
1 cup flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 cup golden raisins
1/2 tsp orange zest ( grated rind)
1 tsp orange extract
cooking oil spray
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place 2 egg whites , 1 peeled banana, OJ in
blender and blend 60 seconds until incorporated. Pur into large mixing
bowl, add honey. Put in the oatmeal and flour and mix well. Then add soda,
cinnamon, mix with wooden spoon. Then add raisins and zest.
Place by tablespoonfulls on greased cookie sheet.
Bake 10-12 minute or until lightly brown.


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Meredith Moeckel What a beautiful setting to eat all the yummy cookies.
Like · Reply · 17 July at 21:11

Meredith Moeckel
Unlike · Reply · 1 · 17 July at 21:11

Stan Burfield What you see there is all Linda's creative puttering.
Like · Reply · 1 · 17 July at 21:17

Meredith Moeckel Yes I do recognize it! :)
Unlike · Reply · 1 · 17 July at 22:51
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Carol Reid Best to Linda and thanks for the great recipe. Going to make them tomorrow.
Like · Reply · 17 July at 22:23

Stan Burfield Enjoy. Linda says there'll be more recipes to come.
Like · Reply · 1 · 17 July at 22:32
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Cambridge N Calvin Keenan That's awesome Stan , swanky and savvy sharing on that parlour patio , Linda's creativity Is most inviting , I see the stars in your eyes as you look at her 💜 and its so refreshing to witness that 👍
Unlike · Reply · 2 · 17 July at 23:30

Stan Burfield Ha ha. I'm a lucky guy.
Like · Reply · 1 · 17 July at 23:34
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Meredith Moeckel Don't know why this popped up on my FB news feed again, but honestly it's a great happy GOOD picture of you! Maybe Linda's cookies have a secret ingredient? Just kidding my handsome friend!

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Hey, get a job!

7/12/2016

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If you've never heard this song before (and how could that be?), DO NOT listen to it here. It will own you for the rest of your life. At least once every few days, without a break, over the past several decades, I have been forced to sing a few bars of it. Why this, of all songs: "Get a job!" What do I need with that? Not only have I been out of the job market for a very long time, but now I'M RETIRED!! And I always hated the song anyway. Trying to get a job was the worst nightmare in my life. Imagine: not only was I shy, which right off the bat meant no one would hire me if they had any choice at all, but I also had virtually no social skills, which meant I was guaranteed to fail on every sad attempt and then be judged negatively by everyone involved: them, my relatives, my friends, if I had any, and by myself. In the end, I had to start my own business (and how lucky was I to me married to someone who had that in mind too!) But, you know, you're not allowed to get away with anything: I am forced to chant "Get a Job" until my dying day. And when I arrive at the Pearly Gates, the angels shall sing, "Sha na na na, sha na na na na," and then God with his big finger will point behind me, and say in that great baritone, "AH YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP BUH BUH BUH BUH BUH BUH BUH GET A JOB!"
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A pea and a bean in a pod

6/18/2016

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Linda and I went down to the backyard of the apartment building this afternoon, unfolded our two chairs under a massive, ancient maple and sat down to read, me Lawrence of Arabia's Seven Pillars of Wisdom, and Linda the beginning of a diary written by one of my female ancestors in the 18th century. Linda did okay but I became distracted by a vine that was climbing from a hedge into the tree. Then a loud family came out, we both lost our concentration, and packed up to go back inside.

At the door, I had no keys.

I must have left them in the apartment. Luckily, someone let us in the building. We went up and our door was locked. Okay, before panic began to set in, I said, "Wait here, I'll go back and check around the table. They must have fallen out of my pocket into the grass, maybe when I pulled my camera out." The cord on the camera gets tangled up with everything all the time. So down I went, and hunted carefully all along the route between the door and where our chairs had been. Nothing. So I did it again, trying to remember my exact route back. Nothing. I stopped myself and thought carefully. Where could they have gone? Aha! They must have fallen out of my pocket into the chair, because the low chair pushes my legs upwards. So, optimistically, I went back up to Linda, searching all the way one more time. She was still petting the neighbour's cats in the hall. She didn't seem too concerned. We took both the chairs out of their bags and unfolded them. Nothing. Now I was really getting worried. It was 8 in the evening. The apartment manager would be gone for the day. Linda said, "We should be able to get someone at the company office." They own a bunch of these buildings and would have someone on all the time. But first we went out and looked again. I prowled along very slowly this time, and when I got to where we had been sitting I kneeled on the ground to feel through the grass with my hands. Linda had wandered off to the side, I couldn't imagine why. Irritated, I said, "What are you doing?" She said, "You were over here looking up into the tree. Remember the vine?" "Oh, yeah." I had completely forgotten. I walked toward her looking down, and there were the keys!

We are so different. I'm always thinking. She's always doing things. It's very easy for me to forget real things that I've really done in the real world, because my world, the one which is complete and is always with me, is a world of ideas. Whereas, Linda remembers every little thing that both of us have done in the real world, which is hers.
​
We're similar and complement each other in the very important ways of human feelings, but we're opposite in virtually everything else. Which means that we hold together, and in doing so we have one all-encompassing brain. What one of us lacks the other excels in.
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​Likes: 24--Karen Booth, Barbara Green and 22 others
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Linda Eva Williams Linda, you look like you're swooning! What's not to swoon over?

Stan Burfield Ha ha. You know how to say it, Linda.


Cambridge N Calvin Keenan A beautiful love story , thanks for Sharing Stan and Linda 🌹have a fabulous weekend

Cambridge N Calvin Keenan That's a great picture of you two 🌹


Meredith Moeckel Love reading about your love affair, and the picture of you two is perfect! ♡♡

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Despite...

3/24/2016

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Despite the fear and stress, I believe in myself enough to push through, and now I even kind of enjoy it, and myself too for all that.


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Our new Guerrilla Poetry series at the library

3/17/2016

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Liked by Jaime R Brenes Reyes, Andrei HurricaneDitka Kravtchenko, Charmaine E. Elijah, Yvonne Maggs and 3 others
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<<Previous

    Stan Burfield's Blog

    Organizer of London Open Mic Poetry. former support worker for people with autism and developmental disabilities.  former farm boy, former adventurer, former florist.
    The 2014 Ted Plantos Memorial Award

    Interview in Your Old South Magazine
    Interview: The "My Writing Process" Blog Tour

    RSS Feed

    Going Out
    1. House Fly Dancing to Mozart

    Videos
    *Linda at the Christmas Craft Show
    *Our apartment
    *The  indigenous poetry event
    *Lake of Fear
    *The art of the slow talk
    *Our new Guerrilla Poetry series at the library
    *Stan discovers some treasure.

    Photo Albums
    *2 hours in one of Linda's days
    *How'd she get in there? 
    *Before the leaves
    *Pensive in winter mist.
    *New Year's Day, 2017.
    *Linda's Christmas decorations 
    *Linda and her Christmas display
    *Linda made whole wheat scones.
    *Seeing Linda off
    ​
    *Linda in first day of snow. ​
    *Balcony finished?
    *Linda relaxing
    *We'll see...
    ​*Linda and I in the Rose Garden. 
    *Listening to the leaves popping open. It sounds like rain, or crickets.
    *Fred, my father
    *​A perfect day to stroll in the woods. 
    ​
    Short Blurbs
    *Voting Booth
    *Screaming and shouting
    *New diary plan
    *That's just weird
    *It happens like this...
    *Kevin Heslop as an actor!
    *repair of damaged DNA (aging)!
    *Paterson: great movie about a poet 
    *I learned from Thomas Moore...
    *Linda' skills are blooming
    *Here's how my day began...
    *...or we don't.
    *An actual woman to a man...
    *On this Valentines Day... ​
    *How little I've changed!
    *A sunny dream, with no fear.
    *Little mistakes....
    *A label for the essence of something
    *​Dream of a typed poem
    *Here's what I want:
    *I like her quirks.
    *A little success
    *The course of history...
    *From "The Cat's Table" by Ondaatje
    *Happy to be a citizen again
    *I THINK IT’S LIKE THIS.
    *I'm so lucky.
    *After rollercoastering, I'm excited!!!
    *Old photos
    *Fire!
    *A memory that keeps returning.
    *What is TRUMP''S AUTHORITARIANISM all about?
    *Practising morality on Halloween
    *Hanging on to an ethic
    *LOOK OUT!!
    *Out of a harsh thing...
    *Mr. Moon comes rolling in.
    *What if...
    *Will I and the Open Mic both survive?
    *I'm now a published poet! Finally.
    *Well, the MRI is done. 
    *Yeah!!! I'm finally a published poet!
    *Medical Update, for those interested
    *Yesterday I had a mini-stroke.
    *We being ourselves.
    *Enormous relief
    *Orange-oatmeal cookies!
    *To put London Open Mic behind me
    ​
    *She sings!
    *Worried
    *While walking home from the store with cherries...
    *Science
    *Standing Still
    *Hey, get a job!
    ​
    *Linda and I are learning to trust.
    *Linda is away visiting relatives. 
    *"We halted and so knew that the quiet night was full of sounds..."
    ​
    *"We halted and so knew that the quiet night was full of sounds..."
    ​
    *Diet and health/longevity
    *Edward Hopper: Woman in Train Compartment
    *A pea and a bean in a pod
    ​*Colt!
    ​*Don't get it off your chest.
    ​*In a world that is neither Heaven nor Hell, hope drives everything.
    *Roy is 80
    *What is going on with these incredible coincidences I keep having?
    *My world of coincidences
    *Is that rumble a distant train or the city?
    *Revelations are everywhere.
    *Knowing you
    *Despite...
    ​
    *The sound of love
    ​
    *Our smile for the day
    *Hurricanes Carla and Esther
    ​*Time Warp!

    *The Pow Wow
    *The Polar Sea
    *Other people
    *Moccasin Bells
    * Stories from my life
    *Je  suis Charlie Hebdo, mais....
    *Life at a fire lookout tower
    *Dominoes
    *Grinch
    *This was my dad in 1965
    *Blue

    Personal Essays
    *Here’s my inch, for what it’s worth
    *Freedom to talk
    *I wonder
    ​*Will I and the Open Mic both survive?
    *Medical Update, for those interested
    *Fred, my father
    *THIS  IS  GETTING  TOO  WEIRD:  the nearly-impossible coincidences are rolling in en masse now.
    *After four seasons, I'm flying!
    ​
    *True North
    ​
    *Back to work on poetry, finally!!
    ​
    *Maybe it's time to see a psychiatrist.
    *66: My best birthday ever.
    *Out of darkness..
    *Hacker attack. Oh man...
    *Jean Vanier, what is this thing he's discovered?
    *Jean Vanier and L'Arche
    *But then again...
    *A Most Useful Invention
    *Building my next beater.
    *My dreams are full of people now.
    *Dear Diary: Relax. Take your boots off. 
    *Those big pictures
    *An UnSilent Night
    *Urban Legends
    *Familiar
    *I  had a glass of Landon Cabernet last night
    *The Less-educated Imagination
    *Listen, I'll tell you something that's really got me worried
    *Can't get enough


    Poems
    *The universe as a poem
    *If you don't know
    *A meander through Euston Park 
    *The Picard Card
    *To Open the Morning
    * We'll see...
    *1st published poem: On a Crate 
    *We decide
    *Standing Still
    *DRINK
    *Oblivious
    *Some Other Place
    *Tinnitus
    *It seems you just have to be still
    *In the Night
    *When I was young
    *Not for inspiration
    *Oh
    *Concerning our Glorious Future: (2nd prize winner at 2014 Poetry London Contest)
    *Yes I heard Ginsberg read once he said prepare for death
    *Amazement
    *Getting used to it
    *And now the news
    *Heart Shaped


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