The Hexagonal Book

Androscoggin Joe

lived somewhere near the Nash Stream Forest

way up a logging trail

east of Camp Stark.

They say he was there

long before the conservation days,

hunting & trapping

maybe even before

the papermill was built

& the railroad lumbered through

the valley.

It’s all pure speculation.

His granddaughter wrote a miniature book once

using a spy-glass,

an eagle quill and lemon ink

that turned invisible once you read it.

But nobody read that book

except she showed it to the Stark librarian,

who supposedly shuddered,

crossed herself and never spoke of it again.

The book was bound with string

& placed inside a frame

then quickly forgotten

yet --- if you turn your mind to it

on snowy days

& listen closely enough

this is what it says:

More low power to the people!

Psychedelic folk explorations with Justin Patrick Moore and ye olde DJ as heard on WSCS 90.9 in New London NH.

Or in this case, late to the funeral.

I recently learned that Carl Blare, long-time champion and advocate for low power broadcasting, passed away about a year ago.

I never knew Carl Blare personally. It’s not even clear that Carl Blare was his actual name. I used to email him at figurehead@kdx.com. He occasionally included my shows on his station - KDX - and had kind things to say about my radio work.

I will be uploading the dozen or two episodes of Low Power Hour that I have in my archives.

Rest in low power, Carl. We hardly knew ye.

Time

slows

as the canopy

reflects night sky

from the boughs of our dreams.

Now is the time.

Always the time.

There is no clock in G-ds world.

Come, be joyous -

Rejoice in not knowing

what time it is

rejoice in not knowing

all the secrets of creation.

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This podcast was an attempt to document some of the tapes we released. We released a pirated version of Solid Space - Space Museum; a compilation by the New Hampshire band The Old World, a “greatest hits” tape by Greg Murray and more.

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In fact, after over a decade since I had a live show of any kind, I feel rustier than a tin Dalek.

I stumble through this show like a drunk in a midnight choir. Thanks Leonard.

I get bored and have to do different things.

And now I will let you listen to this experiment.

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I enjoy reading zines that touch upon worlds that I have a peripheral connection to. Growing up in the 20^th century, I frequently used public pay phones to make calls (I had an aversion to mobile phones when they became widely available – I never owned a personal cell phone until 2020). Though I am very unfamiliar with the cities where Futel phones are located, I applaud their mission – to provide free public telephones in a time when public phones have vanished as completely as the party lines of the mid 1900’s. Don’t know what a party line is? Most people don’t. I grew up with one in my household and it was really tricky making or receiving phone calls until my dad got us a private line.

Ok – about the zine: I have quite a few issues of Party Line, I haven’t reviewed them in the past, they all follow a similar format: updates on Futel, comments from the operator log, musings on the state of communications, discussion of new ventures, and new obstacles to providing free phone calls i…

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The warmest day that February

was 29 degrees

still

falling

short

of the freezing.

Instead: icicles grew

from the eaves

accusatory stalactites

saying:

You - you! are nothing

& I, Dark Nature, rule.

It was just a voice

inside my thoughts

so many words

on a ream of typed pages

hundreds

of fictions

consigned to the flames.

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