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Thursday, 11 February 2010

"All I want to do..."


File:Johnson 1920 HighPlains.jpg

All I want to do
is to go
back to
and let the wind blow
right through me
in the parking lot
by the Trailways Depot

High Plains buffalo wallow, shallow depression in level surface of country underlain by the Oglalla formation, 1897: photo by Willard Drake Johnson, from US Geological Survey, 1920 (USGS)
1940s Continental Trailways bus depot sign: photo via Forever Trailways Memories


TC said...

Ed Dorn said of this poem, "When it gets down to the haunting necessities of the mind [it is] beyond any explanation. A masterpiece of uncontrollable want."

(Ed had a wonderful sense of humour.)

human being said...

All I want to do
is to go

Mariana Soffer said...

I really like the poem, it is so simple and clear, almost transparent, direct with no in between.

~otto~ said...

I will echo Mariana on this. Simple, beautiful.

TC said...


My sentiments exactly, at this point.


Thank you for getting this. The directness, the clarity.

There are I suppose times and places in which mediation is appropriate.

But this time and this place would probably not be among them.

TC said...


You snuck in there without my noticing, geezer that I am.

I love your echo.

Bob Arnold / Longhouse said...


I had to see a week go by before I could say what I felt then — this is a gem. I don't believe, though, like ED felt, it is "uncontrollable want". I feel it is sure and knowing, and it could only be sure in that presence, still in you, of the wind. It's stark and opulent at the same time. Revolving standingstill.

Another poet, Ed Markowski, one with a good eye and feel, went to your site after I pointed in that direction and wrote back this morning his joy for the Trailways poem. Here in snowland this morning I nodded looking out at all the new snow from yesterday and said to myself, "Self — that is what has been inside you all week, Tom's Trailways poem."

Been there, done that, want to do it again.

It's alive.

(signed) Rat Killer

TC said...


Now it can be told. That big circular slump isn't a buffalo wallow, it's where the Huge Rat landed.

John Macker said...

a masterpiece of desolate virtuosity.
when in Pueblo, do as the winds do.

John Macker

TC said...


Yes, desolation gets it. You know that place.

No resisting that wind.

Thanks again.