Last Night a Poet Died in Morgantown

    In my medium/small town of Morgantown, WV a poet died last night.  Joey Gatski, a well-known traveller of our hills and woodlands was found dead in his apartment.  Joey, as we all knew him, has been around town forever like so many others who live on the "fringe" of society.

    We all knew that Joey had his demons and that they often overtook his reason, but we all loved him for who he was - the most incredible mountain man you would ever want to know.   He knew more about the woods than most book-learned people in our community, a community that was built on knowledge and wisdom.  Joey knew where to hunt ginseng, knew which mushrooms you could eat and where to find them, knew where the bears lived and was an extraordinary poet and story-teller.   There are very few people in Morgantown that did not know Joey Gatski.  He made his rounds about town and treated all as his friend.  In spite of his demons I don't ever recall not being glad to see him.   His wit and charm were overwhelming.  It is truly sad to see him leave us at the young age of 51.   Here are 4 of his poems that I found on the internet.  I obviously can't get his permission to print these, but I'm sure he wouldn't have minded that I shared them with you.   Go to this link for a beautiful video of our friend Joe Gatski http://www.justpeace.net/catsblogger.html 

CAN'T EXPLAIN
by Joseph Gatski (1998)

It's that old time feeling
I can't quite explain--
walking along the river
in magnolia scented rain.
Down by the millrace,
I try and try again.
Tis gone...Tis gone--
that which nourished younger dreams.
So elusive. So far away.
But what of tomorrow?
Tomorrow never arrives on time.

As a sigh
for a long lost lover,
should I awake in a field of clover,
I know I could sing
a song that might explain
wild winds blowing,
wild rivers foaming,
and the long lonesome whistle from a midnight train.
A childish muse glides on golden wings.

The Lord of the Hills
sleeps in deep furrows.
The drowsy valley awakes.
White church steeple
partially hidden in mist,
ringing bells for the faithful.
But the shepherd is so far away,
with bruised heels in deep thickets
and calves full of nettles.
They pray and wait in vain
for something they can't explain.

Children play.
Hound dogs bay
a long forgotten tune.
A melancholy sadness
slips into my room.
Fingers press tighter against the window.

 

ODE TO BACKWATERS
by Joseph Gatski (1998)

Descending the depths
of the canyon's black water,
step down amber cascades.
Over mossy rocks,
go stumbling,
nearing waterfalls tumbling.

Here, on a cold clear autumn morn,
by rushing torrents,
clefts are shorn.
Love lost.
So lonesome
and forlorn.
Go wading into the froth
and foam.

 

CURVE OF BLUE
by Joseph Gatski (1998)

I'd surely walk
umteen hundred millionty
forty and seventy eleventy miles
for a friendly wave
and a smile
I don't know about you
I'm just here for that
long misty view
searching afar
for that soft
curve of blue

 

ECHOES
by Joseph Gatski (1999)

Pete the puppy is barking at himself again
up then down locating roads
hills are stacked
between, eat stars
and shit out comets
Down at Green Bank
send radio waves
and wait for an answer
the sign at the diner says
wanna see
flying saucers
pinch your waitress
by the way
Love I still
miss you