I still remember how it felt when I first got there. So unsure about it. Constantly in a state of nervousness, heart pounding at every turn. Everything was so new and so different then anything I’d ever experienced. It was as if I was in a whole different country. But even though I was scared, I felt good. It was nothing like the feeling I had when I started college, I felt so much happier with the decision to come out to West Glacier for the summer, so much more confident in the decision. Every time I shook a hand or had another conversation or explored some new place, everything got a little easier. The first week was an awkward stumble of unsurity. The second week the newness still wasn’t gone. It was close to a month before I felt comfortable, adjusted. I had made plenty of friends by that point, and was starting to get to know all of them much better. I had made friends from Turkey, Thailand, Poland, Taiwan, Spain, Romania, Jordan, Alabama, Florida, South Carolina, West Virginia, Indiana, Illinois, Washington, Nevada, Kentucky, California, and Im sure theres more places that Im missing. All though I had hoped to do a lot of hiking over the summer, my justification for not doing it is all the time I was spending making memories with these people from all over the globe. After all, theres no guarantees that any of them would be in my life after this summer. The mountains will be there long after all of us.

By the end of June I had fallen in love. With the place around me. With the people. With everything. I tried new foods and learned new words in different languages. I rafted for the first time, and kayak’d, and paddle boarded, and went fly fishing and found a waterfall and celebrated my 21st. I went to a disco party, and a gender bender party, and a Christmas party, and so many parties. And theres this old bridge that everyone who spends a season working out there jumps off of, and I did that as well. And I broke my 3 year dry streak(if you dont know, dont ask). And I made best friends…did I mention how much I loved all the people I met? Oh, and of course, the summer wouldn’t be complete without me catching feelings for a girl or two…or 3. Ok, so, I may have had a little crush on a couple girls, but those feelings came and went. But there was one girl that I couldn’t get out of my head. I swear she was a unicorn, and by that I mean, I never have, nor never will, meet another human being like her.

And now, its all over. The goodbyes have been said. People have dispersed out into the world, to there rightful places. I’ve moved a lot in my life, and said a lot of goodbyes. I dont think any where as hard as these. I’ll be back next summer, sure, but I can’t imagine any two summers are quiet the same in a place like this. I’ll miss this summer and everything and everyone from it more than words can describe. Now, with all that being said, I naturally wrote some poetry over the course of the summer, and right here is where you get to read it! So…uh, enjoy??



Spend time with Thia people
(and eat their food)
and Polish people too
and people from Maryland
and west Virginia and Alabama
and Michigan and Montana
(especially people from Montana)
and just plain spend time with people!
and party your face off,
and dont not do things because just because someone told you not too,
and hook up
and fall in and out of love
and loose friends,
leave them behind,
make new ones,
and live in small towns and large cities,
and see America and Europe and Asia
and the whole world!
and read, read anything
and find some music too enjoy
and trip balls on acid,
roll on molly,
get down with opiates,
or tweek with adderall
(Just dont do it all at once)
and learn what all the religions have to say,
respect them,
take bits from this and that,
but follow your own god,
not another mans.
And sit on a dock and enjoy the sun,
or the stars,
and jump off the dock,
and theres so many forms of art,
everything art,
find some art!
and fuck all of the sexual orientation bullshit,
love who you love,
dont let yourself be defined,
and I know I said to spend time with people,
but spend time with yourself,
and while confidence is good,
doubt yourself,
loose yourself,
think about death,
(your death…)
find yourself.
Adapt. Change.
and listen
and learn
and make mistakes
and do things you shouldnt
and do things just because, no reason really,
and do things you thought you couldn’t,
or that your afraid of,
or that get your heart beating,
and try to remember everything,
and let yourself feel everything,
and do all of this
and much, much more.

…but do not,
listen to any of my advice,
do what you want.
and lastly but not least,
“Never die easy”


Lying in a hammock,
absorbing the sun,
listening to the birds chirp,
for something to happen,
or nothing at all.
Nothing would be fine as well.


Nothing goes right
fer ‘ol Mike.
The girls dont dance with him
and the whiskey is too expensive,
and things are,
more often than not,
inconvenient for him.
And he’s told he’s
not ugly and people
seem to like him,
but he doesn’t have much too offer,
probably because of that damn expensive whiskey.
And maybe,
just maybe,
he’s missing something.
He’s certainly missing something,
lord only know what,
but something.


It’s easy and its hard
you need people
and you dont
and life is ok,
short or long,
but it also sometimes isn’t ok.
And sometimes its full of passion
and fire.
And money doesn’t matter much,
but I gotta have it
to afford my drink and my smoke
and a full belly and a warm bed
and these things will all kill me one day,
yes, even the sleep and the food.
But dying isn’t so bad,
and when I do die,
I hope to smile to the gods,
and I’ll say to them,
“I won,

#???-Bird Talk

all of it.
useless people
and conversations.
Lazing around,
waiting for the next drunk,
the next high,
the next paycheck,
the next THING.
Always waiting.
Right now isn’t good enough,
and neither was yesterday.
Were all just trying to get out of the woods,
were all just birds without wings,
Bird talk,
all of it.


Well, ______
its like this,
I want to kiss you.
I want to hold your hand.
I want to spend time with you,
outside of the bar,
I want to get to know you,
all of you,
I want to admire you,
I want to stare into you.
I like you.
I wish you liked me too.


Mikolaj was a good guy,
I’d met a few polish people.
They were all good.
Polish people were my kind of people.
Realistically, every kind of person
was my kind of person,
except for the boring ones.
They had nothing to say.
They just lived.
I felt like I did something more
than just lived,
I really lived.
Maybe I was wrong,
maybe not,
who can say.
What I did know was that life was ok,
and so were polish people.
I haven’t met a polish person I didn’t like.


Oscar Bennett was in the air force.
He was traveling from North Dakota down to Cali,
and decided to make a stop in West Glacier.
He was a white-black Christian-Capitalist.
We had some good conversation.
He hadn’t originally planned to stop in West for so long,
and had no place to stay, so I offered him my floor.
I was advised against doing this by my friends,
warning me he could be a psychopath,
but I told them not to worry.
Im sure he was worried about the same thing.

I was drunk.
Very Drunk.
Things were ok,
as long as I woke up without having been
robbed or murdered.
I had nothing to steal though,
and less to live for.

this wasn’t a risk for me.
I did the good guy thing,
and if it gets me killed-

#???-Something weird.

Love me the
be I used to.
Send me calm,
be us happy.
Light the fire,
see it.
Look to the innards,
the parts
that really matter.


The opportunities of life seem to be crashing down on me,
filling my bloodstream with raging anxiety.
I feel as if Im trapped in a room without oxygen,
but I cant die because I’ve evolved.
I’ve grown gills and all I gotta do is
splash a little whiskey on them now and again,
wet um,
ease the pain.
Its all going to be ok,
but its hard watching all of these doors close
and wondering
what could have been.


Sometimes I think about going back to the cities I lived in before and living there again.
I often yearn for the feeling I had when I was there.
Until I remind myself that I can’t have the past back.
I can move back, but it’ll never be the same, and I’ll never be able to stay for long.
So, I’ll go on, perpetually missing people and places and times,
while falling in love with new people and places and times.


Someday, the coke
and pills and weed
and shrooms and molly
and the bottle and
the sex drive and the youth
and hungry days and young women
and bar fly days
and good poetry and inspiration to write it
and cigarettes and shit jobs
and small apartments
and old friends and new friends
and curiosity
and not knowing and
will be gone.
It will all leave me,
wether death take it,
or time,
or whatever it happens to be,
it will all be taken from me,
and I’ll be left with nothing,
but I’ll know no matter what,
that when all thats gone,
and so am I,
There will be a taste left in your mouth,
and it’ll be one you won’t soon forget.


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