Author: Clark Knowles

Clark Knowles lives in Portsmouth, New Hampshire with his wife and daughter.

Ruins

 

Each time he thought he was

finished, he was only at the beginning.

all of the people stood in a big

crowd waiting for the names

of the things and the names

for themselves and the names

that would help them understand

their own thinking

one man stood along the black

terrace and shouted, mercy, oh,

mercy, again and again

then cities

and boats

and neon

and prayer

and hands

it was crowded with words

and the people had no idea

what any of the words meant

they became a blanket woven

by a blind man, an empty

courtyard, an abandoned theater

a gathering of leaves,

cows, athletes, empty

baskets, totems, crusades,

invisible and visible chaos,

all of the words and the names

flew up and away

the people stood on the bridges,

mountains, concrete oceans

weeping, laughing, lusting,

they scraped away the old soil

to see the bones of the old cities

a man climbed into a tunnel,

a man was buried, an infant

came as foretold, the water

covered the fields, the cities

disappeared, a star died, a new

revolution changed the end of time,

when he woke, he was standing

next to a white bench

on which were perched

a stack of books

with empty pages

he was alone

in a white field

he could not remember

any of what had come

before, he was neither

new nor old

there were no names

and he wondered how

to begin

We said goodbye to Paul B. tonight at 3:51 AM. Friend, mentor, spiritual guide, sponsor, power of example, maybe the realest person I’ve ever met. His death was profound and peaceful. I felt honored to be there. When we left the hospital, @tattoo55 and I drove to the beach to see the sunrise. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses.

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From the East:

ocean, bay, prison, shipyard, diving bell, Squalus, Albacore, Piscataqua, currents, Memorial bridge, Sara Long Bridge, 95 bridge, Great Bay, mills, university, live free or die, antiques, the road to the capital, Portsmouth, Dover, Durham, Barrington, Northwood, Deerfield, Epsom, Chichester, Concord, Loudon, Laconia, NASCAR, Bike week, the Presidentials, Mt. Washington, Lion’s Head Trail, Tuckerman’s, the old man on the mountain, poor old guy, done fell off, dust now, Franconia Notch, Dixville Notch, first to vote!, guns, free-staters, politics all the goddam time, Keep Portsmouth Loud, the Freedom Trail, the African Burial Grounds, Strawbery Banke, the place where I found a home, 234 Sherburne Rd, the town where I found myself, the shitty room I had on Wibird Street before I got sober, man it was cold in there, wind just howling, the job that saw the end of my drinking and the beginning of my sobriety, The Music Hall, Mel Torme, Rebirth Brass Band, John Prine, Pilobolus, Paul Taylor, Lawrence of Arabia, Pearl Bailey held my hand, oh you sweet thing, the stage door, theater is exciting and glamorous, Pinetop Perkins coming in, ancient, dark, smiling, sunglasses, fedora, gold tie clip, Hello, my name’s Pinetop. That’s the top of the pine. You got any Remy?