IN THIS HOTEL --START WITH COMPASSION FOR YOURSELF

BUILDING THE HUT

I BUILT it 1973-1975.. My dad walked up to it with me some years before he died. And he died in 1978. I was going to build it north of Highway 63 and north of the train tracks, then he said: “Why don’t you build it on family land?” I was saying to him, “I’m not interested in business.” That must have annoyed him, for he sold the “family land” to a company about to be formed. So I had to get involved in the company and bought a share. Then I restricted the number of other shareholders involved, so I still had some control. I lived in the hut through two winters, stoking the woodstove – with no electricity or media.

"A STORMY NIGHT IN A PLACE CALLED HOME" and "TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE"

nope ---- UP UP UP

OUTPOST IN THE DEEP NORTH

HANK'S TALE Half my family died in a bomb blast LAst week. So I took this job here - only to discover that my boss, the editor of the Paper had died - in what seems a very strange manner. The newspaper has closed it's doors, I'm not sure why... The stories I'm hearing are too bizarre, so I'm renting a window and desk space upstairs at Artie's bar, which I'm told never closes. My window looks out over the Main Lane, which is rarely busy. The inhabitants of this place hit the bar at any hour. I hear shouts, racous laughter from the bar below...and the occasional shotgun blast - the only sounds in this village above the great McKenzie River. All else is silence. And the cawing of ravens and crows... Then more silence.

TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE

Take your jam off the table And that foreign marmalade Take it all, if you are able And lay it in a lonesome grave * Lay it with the pictures You always used to save The pictures of your boyfriend And the faces that he made * I LEFT my door wide open Out into the ran I thought I could close it long ago But I've never been the same * Your eyes are young and lovely Yor rivers are shining blue Lately I've heard the stories They've been telling on you * None of them are true (these stories) None of them are true They're not sories of you * Take your eyes off the sunset That screams into the night Take your mind off those cigarettes You smoke with all your might * What the priest in the churches didn't tell you Or the headlines in the smoke Amid rumours of gossip and war From minds that have lost their hope * There's a place that's for you On that further shore You can end your lonesome journey to the truth Right by your kitchen door * Take your jam off the table Keep it set for two I'll put a light in your window I'll wait there for you. * (C)1990 by William Milne

THERE IS ONE TIME BEYOND ALL TIME

There is one time beyond all time      that contains this history;
There is one mind beyond reason
      or rhyme
      that tastes this mystery:

"I am he who is beyond all names,
      who sees beyond time or place;
"I am He who is of the same
The Same attained to me, and I          realized it:
My own Identity, beyond names.
I am He who was before my
       forefathers came to be."

SPECIES CAN DREAM

HOWEVER MUCH you pay us - a dollar or a dime With mountains above us or with a stream, We're the ony species who can stand And laugh and cry at the same time ...And dream. (C)2021 by W.G. Milne

Bob Dylan - Changing of the Guards (Audio) EDEN IS BURNING...iMAGES AND SYMBOLS--- DIRECT POETRY AND SPEECH