Doug at Woodstock

In July of “69” I came back from the Vietnam Theatre and 30 days later I was on my way to Woodstock, forty-five years later I arrived! The wonderful museum brought back memories and CSN still sound great! To say it was a moving experience is an understatement and the following poem was born there:

Peace of Stone


Polished stone cut

into the earth to tell of it.


On the plains of Montana

where arrows darken the sky

like a murder of spooked crows,

the dead Lakota, Arapaho

Cheyenne, and General Custer

his yellow hair a Coup

on a well-visited teepee.


At Auswitch

a stone erected

between two crematoria,

“Forever let this place

be a cry of despair.”

The stench of death

so violent it will never

be smudged away.


At Hiroshima

vapor shadows

roam in Peace Park

and children leave flowers

and paper cranes on cold stone.


Stone at the Book Depository,

Stone at the World Trade Center,

Stone at the Vietnam Memorial,

and at Woodstock to commemorate

three days of Peace, Love,

and Hope at Bethel, NY.


Where I stand imagining

lines of school buses filled

with children come to

polish stone?