A cycle of freeverse poems written for/about my Grandpa Robert L Stevenson during his final days, and in the wake of his death as i reflected about our adventures together. Of all my relations, i am perhaps the most like him in many ways: we loved roadtrips, foreign travel, good conversations and stories, and wearing glasses. Company in the free verse are a variety of photos of him and me and other bids which remind me of this remarkable man who clicked off 67 countries and 80 something years. Download and print your own if so inclined. Enjoy.

1. A Cycle for Dear Ole Gramps
by
Dave Olson (1987-2007)
Preamble
Earliest Recollections
Lansing Michigan, 1973
eating macaroni & cheese
in a damp basement
while adults whispered
windows shivered
radio crackled
and i wondered why
the tornado was coming
and then my memory began
Moving, Forward
I’ve held the Globe
I’ve held the globe
thread for vapor trails
of journeys
each color a route
pinned from Greece to Kenya
or St John’s Bay
is that Israel or Syria?
A blue loop with stops at
20 pins circumnavigates
a memory of connections
meals with colleagues

2. strangers and stewardesses
Red thread of elongated triangles
crosses over itself
making obtuse angles o’er Pacific
Tinain, Hawaii, Japan, Guam
a green line returns to Perth
Pins cover provinces and states
organized pushed with vigor and precision
Prague before velvet divorce
Cuba pre­Castro
Misnamed Indies several times
around Belize, Venezuela, Colombia, Paraguay
Paraguay why?
Was it a holiday steamer
or a recruiting mission?
Heavy machinery to militants, airplanes to diplomats or typewriters to rogues
a letter carried from a mexican ambassador from a round of golf decades before ­
carried not as a prize but a pocket card, not an ace but a jack at least,
“This is to introduce my friend, please provide any due consideration.”
Outside the machines dig holes for bricks
disguising the drip and hum of apparatus
chest heaves so shallow,
mouth gapes, head askew,
hands, arms, fingers flush with fluid
ruddy, worn and odd
a man who worked with head and heart,
but little by his hands
Pondering the Question of Advice
He pondered the question
for over a day
he could have died without answering
finally, calling me close, hoarsely
"make a hundred million then cut and run"

3.
Sunken Awake
Ashen sunken
eyes awake slowly
from morphine haze
"it relieves the anxiety to breath"
from time to time
he screams "i can't breathe"
and i say "you're breathing now"
he remembers his father, "a financial genius" he
says
he is the kindly man with the pipe in the painting
"it hangs above my bed"
each word slow
he was always good to me and he is calling me
home
come quickly he said
i won't last long
don't leave yet
you'll have to wait
he said,
i am just too tired
i am just too tired
i am ready to go
i am scared
head drops
struggles to move
i am ready to go
Moving, Backwards (home)
Columbia Daunted but Still Roils
One way these track run
into the elevator

4. and onto Mt Hood
Turning east
stopped by wooden fence
dam the beyond
columbia daunted
but still roils
stunted but strong
regressed to measure and
potential
water spreads
thinner than gold
every fiefdom wants a piece so they
bridge it
dam and tame it
rocks and monuments
observe the folly
silt builds up behind
water cool ahead
moving beyond memories
of drowned villages and
uncovered artifacts
entombed, enshrined
only the tugboats
come close
barge drifting
silos wait
trains slip past
and columbia rolls
Railyards Passing By
journeys waylaid
undertaken ­ tossed
fields of weakness
past trestle stretch
long past
the hazel field

5. storage sheds
of secrets
cul de sacs
dead end
in empty fields
glassy roofs volcano top
early whiskey with ginger­ale
intrepidly past
railyards of enterprise
waiting on a signal
to leave only one
hard fought coincidence
leaving me on time
you've won the anecdotes
and left me the prize
double loaded
dump truck grey blue
against the green
spring fast jaded
as though an accident
mistaken incident of mine
like fresh grass growing
burst past the
blackened mold
hay bale
cut for winter
first browned ­ forgotten and
settled to waste
alongst hidden railway yard
seen flashing past
noticed by someone
who might live there
or just be passing past
not a stranger
just someone who doesn't make it by
except when the train leaves or
when cherry blossoms occur

6. just to confuse the birds
Just, Moving (Roadtrip, circa 1987)
The Smallest Town
the smallest town possible
Sublett Idaho
(or Utah?)
no matter
i've been there twice
Ranch Exit
V1
Ranch exit Oh de Oh
O'er the pass we gonna roll
'nigh services up ahead
just us and trucks
rounding the bend
C
Dropping in and shifing down
half past Snowville by 10 oh 5
would stop for pie
if the town were open
but shuttered down
so we keep on rolling
V2
Ranch Exit Hi di hoh
mother trucker swerving solo
slow on down ya great big loader
bailout lane is
right there for ya
V3
Ranch Exit Low de doh
diggin the starshine show
riding green and rolling low

7. past the flying J
dark in idaho
B
Ursa Major pointing us ahead
wellsville rising far behind
as we are northward bound
idaho's road are bumpy
utah beer is swill
oregon holds the gas pump and
washington is greener still
##
Affectionately Compiled, March 2014