Sunday, September 13, 2015


One frosty and freezing December night in 1973 Joan Bliss and I zipped ourselves into a sleeping bag.

 Inside the sleeping bag we were as tight as sardines in a can (and by tight I don't mean intoxicated).

She and I did not become amorous, but I do recall some sparks igniting when our two bodies touched.

Neither of us made any moves to do anything.

We had gotten into our snug and warm cocoon simply to avoid death by freezing.

We decided not to go outside to look at the comet Kohoutek, and we would need to wait another 75,000 years before it passed by again; but the comet was a dud anyway. President Nixon summed up the event when he was asked what he thought of the comet: He replied, “No comment.”

My visit to Innisfree occurred when I was footloose and free.
It was after Woodstock, but before the end of the Vietnam war.
It was a time of brown rice, vegetables, and yogurt.

Innisfree was a large, two-story farmhouse, with no central heating. I think there was a fireplace in the living room.

I remember walking to Innisfree, but I also recall that my newly bought 1964 Ford Esquire was parked there.

I remember that I was wearing layered clothing, and had on a sleeveless beaver fur vest that I had gotten out of a “free” box in the city.

A local Doberman pinscher must have thought that I was a two-legged beaver, and proceeded to chase me. I ran away in fright, but then remembered I shouldn't, so I slowed down, and so did the dog, and then I continued walking to Innisfree.

I only stayed at Innisfree for one night, and that was enough.

I don't recall where I went after that, but it was probably back to the Bohemian apartment where I had stayed off and on for a number of years.

Joan Bliss and I walked in the mountains one afternoon, but I can't remember if it was before or after our stay at Innisfree. After that, she went her way, and I went mine...strangers on ships passing in the night.


Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.


By William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, 
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; 
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee, 
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, 
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; 
There midnight's all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow, 
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day 
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; 
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, 
I hear it in the deep heart's core.


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