THE STATION

    Tucked away in our subconscious minds is an idyllic 
vision. We see ourselves on a long, long trip that almost 
spans the continent.  We're traveling by passenger train, 
and out of the window we drink in the passing scene of 
cars on a nearby highways, of children waving at a 
crossings, of cattle grazing on a distant hillsides, of 
smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row 
of corn and wheat, of flat lands and valleys, of 
mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and 
village halls, of biting winter and blazing summer and 
covorting spring and docile fall.

    But uppermost in our minds is the final destination.  
On a certain hour, we will pull into the station.  There will 
be bands playing and flags waving.  And once we get 
there, so many wonderful dreams will come true.  So 
many wishes will be fulfilled and so many pieces of our 
lives finally will be neatly fitted together like a completed 
jigsaw puzzle.  How restlessly we pace the aisles, 
damning the minutes for loitering....waiting, waiting, 
waiting for the station.

A Nice Day in March

A nice day in March
in Vermont, over 40 outside.
The sunshine spills on my tablesaw
as the spinning blade
slices through hard maple,
destined to be a ladder
rung to the loft in my bedroom.
The demon is aroused
moving just under my skin.
I've been out here three hours
M-A comes in, don't forget
to rest soon. The demon
smiles as it gains my attention.
I'll be OK, just
another twenty minutes.
As the demon paws at
my chest, I'm confused.
I go lay down thinking
of the boy who invited the
demon here thirty years past.
Why did he make these important
decisions for me so long ago?
The demon sits on my bowels
and scratches at my chest,
like my cat pawing a bed before sleep.
I remember how my feet hurt so much
before I got used to it.
The promises on the night
stand says "count it all joy"
my lips curl up as I think
        I'm a hepper
        He's a hepper
        She's a hepper
        We're all heppers
        Wouldn't you like to be....
...................... aw, forget it.

Russ

Prayer

So here we are God
just you and me.
I'm sittin'twisting my hair into little knots
tearing it from my scalp--
then laughing and building a little pile
but no one sees or hears  ..how about you?

Last week some one else told me my heart was empty
probably right huh?
I'm livin' in a different place Lord
how many's that ..keepin' record?
Maybe I'll move into my car
makes leavin' easier.

I got no friends sometimes you know. . .
sometimes I'll disappear for a couple of days
just to see if the world stops
you know, it doesn't--
(well of course you know)
You also know forgiving is your job.

the reason  I called is to let you know
that I got this theory
and i'm countin' on it pretty heavy--
this must be my forty days
my journey to sauron
my battle with the darkness ya' know
But God just need to let you know
that I'm not canceling my ticket
not checking out
I won't leave you alone
I just gotta slow to a stop
long enough to repack my bags.

Mark and Greg Mitchell -- Jan, 1984

KAT'S CALL

The doctor calls with a little news,
your blood showed a virus, hep c he spews.
Well, how the hell, you think to yourself,
it sure didn't come from a litle elf!
Not sure how ya got it, we hear him say,
but will send a little info out today.
Get a little packet full of hep-hygiene care,
meanwhile shouting inside, "This aint fair!"

Friends and family act one of 2 ways,
denial, or fear and counting the days.
No one to talk to, and all we hold dear
seem to slip thru our fingers, depression is near.

Then one day you find on a computer of all places,
a channel and list of friendly hep faces.
Suddenly find your not alone anymore,
love and sharing pour out to even the score.
May be too tired to get up and dance a jig,
but with the love on here, who gives a fat fig!          

Kat

Fantastic Light

I've skipped the light fantastic so many times
that illumination bores me.
I've sucked the toes of stars in a literal way
and kissed politicians asses in a figurative.
I've left more places than most people go
I've been high in limos and begged low on skid row.
So I'm qualified in my own eyes
To preach--though not on television.
So scream 'Amen' with me people scream 'Amen'
Cause I talk to God.
I talk to god and he shares his wisdom
'Boy , stop worrin', just live and don't hate.
I'll take care of judgement at the Pearly Gate.
Just give what you can and take what you need
Live long or live short , but plead only to me.
Cause I am God damnit, and I am jealous.
But your linguists have given me so many names
and I must answer them all.
Just think of that you cynics
That don't believe I answer the call.
What are your options?
Why not? Why not believe in something
Instead of nothing.

......Reach for me, search for me
      and it might just be in vain.
   There is no proof of me, I exist in your brain
            Because you are my concience.
But if you chose to die forever, 
            it doesn't effect my balance.

That's what god said to me and that 's a fact.
So I turned back and asked
the fantastic light for illumination.
To sit and be still
With a friend of good will.
To sit quietly and tune out the riot
of resounding screams.
I lay in silence and God gives me balance
and chats with me in my dreams.

----Spring of '94
  Mark Mitchell      August 1, 1961 -August 11, 1994

Cotton is the sky.

Softer still, it rolls out in the morning like a smokey ocean
Settling ever so slowly to the ground in a perfect wash of grey.

The rain is like a lovers hair
Tickling my nose without a thought.
Settling ever so slowly to a gentle light
Shining in the night.

There is no rhyme or reason here
Only stark circumstance
Of providence and chance
Settling ever so slowly into a gentle night
Shining out a light

Through a perfect wash of grey
Unfolding like a smokey ocean

Like cotton is the sky.

JHS

Daddy's Love

He was big and black as the ace of spades
You could see the coldness in his face.
He never spoke a word aloud,
But fit in a crowd with grace.
The story I will tell of him
You may or not believe, my friend,
For he did such a touching thing
There, close to the end
We saw a car go down a cliff,
And we knew a girl was inside
But when we got to the edge of the cliff,
Everyone said that she had died.
He went to that burning wreck
to see what he could find.
She was trapped inside by hot thick steel
But that did'nt change his mind.
His muscles bulged and rippled
As he saved the struggling lass.
The people watched in awe
As he achieved his final task.
The others got her to safety
Just as the gas tank blew.
I turned in time to see
The silent heros life was through.
The explosion hit me hard,
And his death hit me harder.
For I knew that he'd do it again
For the girl he saved was his daughter.

Mark Mitchell