Beautiful Maine – New England

Maine is gorgeous. Maine is large. If you think the world is small, I invite you to drop yourself off, deep in the woods Up North, and wait for nightfall.

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Moosehead region. First Roach.

 

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New England wears many faces. Churning toughness into each of us without our permission, but with our blessing. Photo taken in Southern Maine.
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Let’s hope this stays unchanged. Photo taken just beyond Kokadjo.
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Drawn to the beaten. Even this. Southern Maine.
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Down East. Machias. A funny thing, how an approaching storm calms.
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Is that a road? Might be. Or, you’ll walk to it and find it’s nothing at all. Moosehead region. Let’s find a store.
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Every time I pass this old store I become happy. The beginning of the beginning is happening. You know where this is.
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Although, you can’t get there from here.
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Certainly though, you can get here from there. -You know where this is!
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Down East again. How many coastal towns look much like this? It is said this town sees the morning sun first. Google. Ready to go home?
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Maybe not to you. But, this is a home.
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And this. The so called, ‘March Blizzard of 2017.’ Southern Maine.
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And really here now is home. As my son realizes he’s not alone.

I’m drawn to the toughness of Maine. Both in its natural state and within its industrial towns that have been slightly forgotten. Much like my home town of Turner’s Falls in Western, MA. (Gill actually.) I love these towns. I’m proud of them. I see potential even in the crumbling buildings. But let us not pretend that Maine isn’t a snow globe. Because it really is. My Western, MA friends- I owe you one of these articles. It’s coming.

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All photo’s taken by me. I’m no photographer. I just point and click at things.

Ps, I wrote a short story. That story became self published, thanks to my wife Megan. If interested you can read reviews or read the story via the amazon link below.  Cheers.

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet Thursday – Steinbeck

‘You cannot dissect for emotion,’ Doc went on. ‘If a human body were found by another species and dissected, there would be no possible way of knowing about its emotions or its thoughts.’ John Steinbeck. Sweet Thursday.

I write in my books. I rip corners off pages. It’s been a long while since I read this book. It didn’t take a long while to find one of my favorite lines.

Matt

Odd Walking Thoughts

Watch as I take the trash out. My slippers are beaten and beautiful. I came from a shack much like a house. I smile. The heads wobble and click as I walk; my appearance. It isn’t much. My gums mash side to side and my eyes water. But I walk to the dumpster anyway.

Can I Be – Flash Fiction

Can I Be
Flash Fiction
Written by -M. Taggart

Can I Be

As seen in the nine years old boy’s diary before his death-

‘I didn’t know I was bad. I felt it once but I made it go away. Jan 14.

I found out I am not bad. I saw bad today. That is not me.  Jan 21.

I had a good day. My uncle took me to a movie. When I came home he told me he was sorry. Feb 6.

I think I’d like not to be here anymore.  Feb 22.

I did what I was told. I don’t know who else to tell. Feb 28.

Today was good. I was told I could go to school again. I want to go to school again. I want to learn and read books. March 3.

My covers aren’t enough.  March 4.’

The boy was found dead March 5. The boys diary contained notes and drawings.

(edited timeline error.)

A Poem

Lie your broken bones here –
See the sun going down – just now brushing the tops of the New England Pines
Cry for yourself and your fears – Feel your own bones
Scraping edges
It’s fine – Dream of truer days, you never helped, and will not see

-M. Taggart
copyright 2017