RERUN: Do not forget who this is all about. I mean that.

Prose: Of Friends In Hell The kindest were the patients, the honesty was founded in the needy, the integrity rested in the eyes of the wounded, and the truth relied upon the presence of evil.

As always, friends emerge in the strangest of places. This piece is dedicated to Albert, Philip, Ruth, Tim, Ruby F., Devon, Janice, Josh V., Josh two, William, Jasmine, Joe G., Tyrone, Theo, Clyde, Kris, Melissa A., Edward, Virginia, Lucy, Ken M., Noreen & Iris, Brian one, Brian two, Rodney A., James M., Andy B., Thomas B., Elaine, Thomas (two), Talina, Carl, Donny P., William, Michele, Brian, Francesca, David A., Constance, Jesus M., Wendy, George one, Vince, Mark, Roberts one-three, Steve one, Abigail, David H., Randy, Natalie, Pete, Larry, Amber L., Alexandra, Rich, Janice, Chris T., Jerry, Mr. Director, Rosy, George two, Steve two, Tim, Franky-Mary P., Pete, Edmond L., Larry, Roger B., Cathy, Rich, Mike…. And too many names sadly forgotten. 

People who touched me so strongly, as being angels somewhat hidden in the closet of their respective mental complications; each of whom, via the influence of stabilizing medications or whatever else was keeping them stable (at times, sometimes oft', sometimes not) within the realm of The Arizona State Hospital, set themselves as far higher beings than the evil mongers who have been granted by their relatively superficial professional qualifications- vs. ethical character- the absolute privilege to impose themselves on the needs of our loved ones. For that's what it is, you know, nothing short of privilege to be allowed by family or morally balanced citizens or state policy or the very air of our planet to share the thoughts and hearts of Arizona's most at risk adults. 

…. and so it was told, 
below the house
and outside the garage

above the stone stairway,

by the moldy old trellis

with its long dead grape vine….

the little girl reached for the stick

but it struck her instead

so she died from snake bite:

copperhead- going for the eggs.

                  (from"orchard" self pjreed 1989)

early morning sailors/we came together

they came by

day after day

often announced

my welcome was taken for granted

by me, so I always made my way in

to their respective houses

as though we had been there for time

eternal is the strength of pain

and happiness is the price of love

which came to me there                                     

in the strangest of places                                                

but in truth, no farther from home

than my three lakes down the hill-

birchwood, crystal, mountain-

any one of the them
long ago defined 
whence the trail 
our eventual meeting. 

                          (self pjreed 2012)

notes:

  -Beth O. 1993 Britanny Slager 

  -Orchard (partial) 1989
    Trout Creek Press, Ashland, OR
    (originally published 1990 Fish Review #4
     Trout Creek Press, Ashland, OR

NOTE: the poem "Early Morning Sailors/We Came Together"
was originally published in Fern and Prune 1989
Prescient Press, Birmingham, UH
1st ed. Kriss Roth/Solvang

paoloreed@gmail.com