From The Nuthouse and an Outdoor Existence: Poetry and Pictorial Art
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From The Nuthouse And an Outdoor Existence is a collection of poems and pictorial art; Part I, is from experiences of hospitalization during the 1980's in Pueblo, Colorado in a state facility with water tower and grounds. Part II, is from experiences such as standing on porches in a Minneapolis winter at evening; and my "joining" the Assembly of Yahweh in southern Colorado, 'til I got kicked out by the leader and his wife; and later wandering in Albuquerque and Sante Fe, New Mexico; then, the California East Bay; San Francisco, Moss Beach, Half Moon Bay, Marin Headlands, and Sausalito of the…mehr

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From The Nuthouse And an Outdoor Existence is a collection of poems and pictorial art; Part I, is from experiences of hospitalization during the 1980's in Pueblo, Colorado in a state facility with water tower and grounds. Part II, is from experiences such as standing on porches in a Minneapolis winter at evening; and my "joining" the Assembly of Yahweh in southern Colorado, 'til I got kicked out by the leader and his wife; and later wandering in Albuquerque and Sante Fe, New Mexico; then, the California East Bay; San Francisco, Moss Beach, Half Moon Bay, Marin Headlands, and Sausalito of the early 1990's. The advent of my depression and illness had been dealt with by pharmaceutical drugs and psychotherapies; outpatient and inpatient care. The symptoms were not severe so, the medication was minimal and although, immediately effective against (as well as, in the creation of new) symptoms it may have not been the choicest therapy for a cure but, it may be why drugs are so heavily relied upon by the Psychiatric Agencies in America in the interest of financial gain. Trying to make the best out of a stressful situation; the focus of writing the poetry was on experiences of myself, the other persons available under incarceration, or those remembered, as well as, the surroundings (hospitals), themselves. These on-again-off-again hospitalizations had become my world. Memorably in healthier days; mid-1970's, I'd parted company with an African-American man in Heidelberg, (West)Germany, who'd continued our studies of Mahayana Buddhism; traveling on to India and Nepal where he studied to become a Buddhist Monk. We'd met and worked at a youth Hostel, there, and both moved on to work in the club system of the American Army Base before he left for the East and I went to Fait-les Vendage (pick grapes) in France. This man penned back to me many times, and one letter was forwarded to me in Colorado at Hospital. My poems written within that hospitalization in Pueblo are dedicated to him as the man I knew as a friend abroad. A man I'd done well to know.Whether in or out of society as I had known it, both at home and abroad, people could be miraculous. It was easier to value the sense of "asylum" that might be appropriate in any given situation and, certainly, in my own inexperienced need of it. I wrote these poems later with my early travels in mind and the hopes I'd inherited from those years in camping, youth hostelling, photographing and writing journal about a world, I was so lucky to be in.The artwork in the book was created in part as I'd wandered and composed my poems or, in art schools in Colorado and later, in northern California while living at Lake Merritt Wildlife Reserve in Oakland with partner, Kat Hall for twenty plus years; an event which ended my homeless wandering and hospitalizations while predisposing me to tackle other impending health issues.My experience with the suicides of others in a system that was part of the problem was ongoing over the years during in-patient and out-patient associations. I wrote about myself, my communities, my world in this poem/song in, 'I Found A Suicide Note'. Not to minimize anyone's pain in life but, some things can be done for ourselves and our world along the way. I had to fight to stay afloat. The night I sat on Golden Gate Bridge until a woman walked me off to the street car was more about these others who were, so often there, with lost intentions; maybe, truthfully, we walked each other off the bridge that night. The Outside Existence poetry is dedicated to my grandmothers, Lela W. Reagan and Hazel G. Patton; women, family of an earlier generation in my life and experience.
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