phoenicia cont., ken lovelett

during our brief stay in phoenicia, alan, the proprietor of babytoes.com, who we met at 60 main a community store, was an unofficial gracious host for the town– he recommended wonderful eating establishments, like sweet sue’s, shared his time and humor with us and also introduced us to some wonderful people–

we had been to a garlic festival in saugerties, ny (another story in itself) and we returned to phoenicia where we were staying to end the night– we wanted to look at the stores again that we had seen earlier in the day and again we ran into alan who was standing outside his store at 60 main a community store–

now to be quite honest i am not sure if 60 main a community store represents all the individual stores that are in the immediate area or just alan’s store babytoes– however, they are all wonderful and have friendly staff– i personally liked the art gallery which first drew me in with it’s metal structure–

however, it was upon our return to the town when alan suggested that we come into his store because the maker of a drum that i had been admiring earlier was present and perhaps we could talk to him–

this was my introduction to ken lovelett– appearing to be a quiet man like myself, he began after brief introductions to explain the lap drum, some of his
other creations and his bellatope– i am normally slow to take to people yet his intensity in his profession really intriqued me and i felt as though i was talking with a long lost friend– he mentioned his various businesses, americanpercussion.com and sonartrecordingstudio.com and he talked some more about his personal experiences–

i began to find myself lost in the conversation just listening to him with my own mind running simultaneously and suddenly he was talking about a guitarist and he said the name mederick– i thought that i had misunderstood him but then he said the name mederick again– my jaw dropped and i asked him, are you talking about mederick bellaire? his jaw dropped also and we laughed for what were the chances that there were two medericks that played the guitar– i told ken that mederick was my first guitar teacher and that we used to go to see him play when i lived in rhode island– we talked about how we knew who and just enjoyed the serendipity of it all–

in all seriousness i could have sat and listened to ken talk all night and felt that i was truly sitting in the presence of someone whose mind was moving at an incredible pace–

in summation it was a memorable visit, we met some truly wonderful people and i know that phoenicia will be on our map from now on–

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sweet sue’s

sweet sue’s– my wife just asked “how are you going to explain that place?” well, like this–

if you are in phoenicia for breakfast and you have the time . . . go there!! ask no questions, be patient and as advised take one stack of pancakes and not any more– sit still and watch the entertainment–

we were lucky because when we walked in there was a table available right at the front door– the restaurant was packed and a hostess that reminded me of the host at the prancing pony in bree was in total control– it appeared that she knew who was where, who was waiting, who was content and who was not– i was amazed that such a busy restaurant was functioning as well as it was– kathleen attempted to ask her if in fact she was sue but either she didn’t hear or she was to preoccupied with the ten plus patrons that were waiting to be seated–

personally, i would stress if you are an impatient sort to whom breakfast is a mere routine and you are looking for a more quiet atmosphere . . . don’t go to sweet sue’s– but of course . . . you will miss the excellent food–

after kathleen and i entered sweet sue’s and got over the initial shock of so many people in what we were assuming was a somewhat small town, our attention was caught by the food orders that were going past us– our eyes popped out and we laughed knowing why alan at 60 main had stated one stack– sweet sue’s serves pancakes that are almost as large as a regular plate–

i ordered “the red monkey’s” which consisted of two large pancakes surrounding strawberries and bananas– excellent!

kathleen had lemon ricotta pancakes– buttermilk pancakes covered with pecan and huge raspberries that were blemish free–

we had noticed that the waitresses kept taking containers to the patrons and shortly into
breakfast we discovered why– although we thought we could finish breakfast neither of us got any further then half through– the waitresses knowingly brought containers without being asked–

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phoenicia’s smile

phoenicia’s smile

we wandered down the withywindle once again
(whatever do they call that river?)
like us, it appears to hear the tinkers tune
but the unconcious sight of the underbelly brought bile to my lips
and i gagged slighty and recomposed myself
trying to identify the source
wondering if perhaps the charm had worn off so soon
woodstock, you misplaced child,
is it your fault that the peace signs are now plastic and abused
is it your fault that i am just another aging hippie
wandering your streets and blaming my stumbling upon you?
peace
god, may peace be with and between me and you–

is it really just the changing of the season?
for now my hands they crave the potter’s wheel
hell, give me a torch, let me melt some steel
for my passions are no longer in that virgin field
where they sang the songs of peace and love so long ago
winter now it seems to close
and yet it feels as though spring is near
where is the woodstock of yesteryear?
there is soil to turn and seeds to yet sow
hell, fuck the virgins, let them sing their songs–

and so then, we withdrew slightly
i felt impotent and slightly frustrated and frayed
the roads twisted through the mountains like tunnels in a maze
like blind mice we wandered blindly until
we found ourselves back and within phoenicia
a shovel placed upon the street sent us climbing stairs
and so we willingly obliged
for here definitely was steel that existed exactly as i felt
i personally liked the self potrait as a sow
and the remnant of a tire placed upon the wall
excellent!
finally an answer for all the retread threads that we find in shreds along the highway
tack them to the walls–

and then to the first floor//
a community store//
with a host with a genuine gentle smile
a representative of phoenicia
displaying phoenicia’s smile
phoenicia, the perfect place for a writers work to begin
reminding me gently of my smith corona
and the blood that is long past
and the days that have come and gone
the days that have been
chap books in a window decades old yet still relevant
still howling at the moon
phoenicia’s smile
still howling at the moon
phoenicia’s smile
like sharing simple words and a primitive beat with a long lost friend–

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secret smile

i started listening to phish in the past year– though people had suggested i give them a try, i had resisted– hell, i didn’t give the dead a fair listen till long after jerry was gone– so it shouldn’t be to surprising that i slept through the entire phish existence– how nice that they are doing it again– i have become an avid buyer and fan of their music– today i picked up “undermind” which has the song secret smile– it seems so appropriate for the mood– hope the boys don’t mind me nodding to one of their tunes–

Secret Smile

Sometimes when the evening’s young
The wind dies down, the setting sun
Crochets the clouds with yarn so fine
And fills the oceans with red wine

The trees, the sky, the forest fair
Bring a flavor to the air
I raise my glass and in a while
You answer with a secret smile

Hold on, hold on, hold on to me

An airborne leaf that landed near
Has carried Dionysus here
He’ll slip away but only when
He sees our glasses filled again

Songwriters: Anastasio, Ernest J; Marshall, Thomas G

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anniversary o’boogie’s anniversary

it seems already like it’s been years and at the same time that it was just yesterday– gone a year– and still, the fact that she appeared to want to sleep the rest within summer and not join us within fall still rocks me and makes the coming season again that much more dismal and chilling– the forecast calls for frost tonight–

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eight years

we’ve been fighting a war now for (eight years) . . . .

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summer’s end

summer’s end

and another summer ends
in a blink, in a wink, in a flash
we await the proverbial frost that will be upon the pumpkin
and the burning bush will shortly be on fire
the golden child always comes in with a whisper and with a slight smile
a smile that is almost hidden within the corners of his eyes–

i have seen flocks of robins heading south
the ducks are also gathering in a bunch perhaps also soon to be gone
the leaves are changing rapidly in the trees
the fallen are like emissaries staking out the boundaries they will keep upon the lawn
as they tussle and dance their last few steps of the season–

and another summer ends
in a blink, in a wink, in a flash
once again the children must accept it’s passing and be content with the memories that they retain
like dandelion wine and a baseball game broadcast from a radio from someone elses room
it is only the memories that they retain–

and we remember them that way,
the days as they grow shorter
luxuriously lazing neath the summer sun and moon
stretching the moments not wishing to miss a single drop of the sunshine that streams in with the cicada like tunes
natures whine as the season winds down–

and again, the golden child always comes in with a whisper and with a slight smile
tom sawyer’s huck throwing tantrums at the thought of returning to school
the winds of change blowing lightly, greeting me as i step out the back door
and i know that further on yet another child, silver, waits patiently within the wind–

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from the big chair

shout, shout, let it all out, these are the things I can
do without. . .

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