Monday, December 5, 2016


Even Inside

You were asleep

I blew out the lamp

Turned to you —

A firefly blinked


Summer Leaves

I listen

To all

Its length

Of a tall

Maple tree

In the rain


The same bird every night

In the same tree singing

The same song that does

The same very songful

Thing inside of me

It Is Now The Birds Settle

You would walk

Upstairs to our room

In the early evening

So warm

Undress, while looking to the woods

Lie down

Hours later

I would find you this way

Explaining To Carson

On the boat ride we saw

One town, one island,

Two motor boats, two

Kids swimming from a canoe,

A redtail hawk flew over

The mountain, a blue 

Heron flapped around the bend


Bob Arnold
Once In Vermont

Friday, December 2, 2016

Thursday, December 1, 2016


There is no one like Ursula K. Le Guin, no one, when it
comes to the enthusiastic and conversational book reviewer,
the love of reading, the writers, the readers and the
freedom of speaking one's mind.

She advocates all of this.

She practices.

Read her.

Published by a brave press 
from Easthampton, Massachusetts
S M A L L      B E E R      P R E S S
150 Pleasant Street

Wednesday, November 30, 2016


"The Friends of Eddie Coyle is the most powerful
and frightening crime novel that I have read this
year. It will be remembered long after the year is
over, as marking the debut of a fine original talent."

R O S S     M A C D O N A L D

My copy of this great yarn with its kick in the head dialogue throughout is this cheap-o book club edition long after my original
copy was lent out and never returned and then my dog-eared paperback that was obviously enjoyed by many readers or one dog of a reader before me, and if the book isn't enough to satisfy your lust, do go to the film version starring a terrific and rumpled cast including Robert Mitchum as Eddie Coyle. Who else could have been "Eddie fingers?!" No one, not even close.
The director of the film, Peter Yates, British-born with a keen eye and ear to bloody America, made Bullitt in 1968 with this equal masterpiece in 1973. 

Tuesday, November 29, 2016


The Library of America 2016

"More than a rock in my belly, I have a waterfall in my brain;
a rose in my eye, a beautiful eye; and what's in my heart but a
mountainside, and what's in my skull; a light. And in my throat
a bird. And I have in my soul, in my arm, in my mind, in my
blood, in my bean a grindstone of plaints which grinds rock
into water, and the water is warmed by fires, and sweetened by
elixirs, and becomes the pool of contemplation of the dearness
of life. In my mind I cry. In my heart I think. In my eye I love.
In my breast I see. In my soul I become. In my shroud I will
die. In my grave I will change."

J A C K      K E R O U A C
1950 "Private Philologies"