Carl Kruse is taking a break. This is from the Carl Kruse Dot Org archival clutter.
During the summer of 1988 Tammy Kaup shared a short poem by Roger Shattuck which has stayed with me all this time, at times being more salient, only to fade away and then later reappear. As 2016 begins this short poem returns anew. Fresh. As if encountering it for the first time. Isn’t a classic that which stands the test of time? I have never been able to find it in a web search and the only copy of it is the scribbled note Tammy left me in New York back during that summer of ’88.
Our future depends
on an endangered species of love-intensive persons
willing to walk not drive
the second mile
to use their naked hands to touch
the quick of things inside
I yearn for these love-intensive persons, willing to walk not drive the second mile and who use their naked hands to touch the quick of things inside themselves, as the poet alludes to. We need more of them.
Another scribbled note emerged from the archives, which likewise I could not find on the web but is attributed to Dianne Young of McLean, Illinois, talking about Route 66. Well it’s talking about more than Route 66. What makes for the best roads?
All the good roads lead nowhere.
They aren’t a direct route or a shortcut to anyplace,
and they hold no attraction for those bent on making time.
These byways, instead wander far over the map,
meandering through the mind,
not stopping till they
arrive at the heart.
Some view stashed away papers as clutter, perhaps as the antagonist of clear thinking and tidy souldom. But when long forgotten writings yield beauty and wonder I happily forgive the clutter that contain them.
What might lie in your cluttered corners?