Tracks
I am lost
because I placed my feet
in the beaten muddy steps
leading me deeper
ever deeper
into the woods
I am lost
because in the forest
the imprints of my
predecessor
melted & were meaningless
lured
with silver breadcrumbs
I have gone far
too far
to return
to truth
The Stones Of Cedar Hill
I love cemeteries
When I was a child, I played in one
Because we did not have a park.
The stones of Cedar Hill became my primers
Of God, and history and art.
When I was seventeen,
Monica and I went all the way
To eternity
Behind the weathered stone of
General ‘Biff’ Harris, (retired);
We warmed the General’s cold, damp bones
That night
And there was Mary,
Who said it was a sin of desecration
To love on hallowed ground
But it was May,
The earth was warm,
And Mary was gold and fragrant
Like the afternoon.
When evening fell,
Mary loved Cedar Hill
and I loved Mary.
Then I wed,
And took my child
To play among the dead
Because we did not have a park,
And how we loved to run free,
Learning as I did,
About life through death.
Once he asked,
“Daddy, will they ever return?”
And wanting his belief in God,
I said, “I think so, son.”
He smiled satisfied and said, “Good!”
And off he ran with Mister Woof.
The wind arose chilling me
As I watched them go,
And I fancied hearing many voices
Wailing by in chorus,
No No No No No No No No No Nooooooo!
We have been betrayed… betrayed… betrayed…
Was it Cedar Hill’s reply to my son,
Or was it only the wind?
I’ll never know.
We don’t visit cemeteries anymore:
There is too much truth in those mounds and stones.
Now we have a park
Where children laugh and play,
And couples walk, holding hands,
And old men with silver hair
Sleep and play cards,
With fountains splashing,
And men in white sell ice cream
And gayly colored balloons,
But parks are somewhat wanting,
And when winds whisp by on breezy days
I think of truth as still
Reposing always with my son,
Among the stones of Cedar Hill.
Second Street Socrates
Pop Billings had no legs,
But it caused him no concern
For people bought his papers
Finding wisdom they could learn.
A pause would get you news and views,
City Hall, a railroad strike,
Bets, Jets, Mets, the lottery,
And happenings in town at night.
Pop Billings had no legs
— just a smile, a mind, and time,
Which kept his corner busy
Changing lives for only a dime
E.J. Hudak ca. 1969
An Anthology Of Perception 