by Mary Leue, $10.95 plus shipping.

The bright wire rolls like a porpoise

in and out of the calm blue sea

of the cover, or perhaps like a sleeper

twisting in and out of his dreams,

for it could hold a record of dreams

if you wanted to buy it for that

though it seems to be meant for

serious work, with its

college-ruled lines and its cover

that states in emphatic white letters,



It seems a part of growing old is no

longer to have five subjects, each

demanding an equal share of attention,

set apart by brown cardboard dividers,

but instead to stand in a drugstore

and hang on to one subject

a little too long, like this notebook

you weigh in your hands, passing

your fingers over its surfaces

as if it were some kind of wonder.

                    Unknown author


I have named this collection of my poems after this poem, " A Spiral Notebook," by an unknown (to me, at least) author, the message of which seemed to me to manifest so many striking parallels to my own case as to feel indispensable to what I am hoping to convey by publishing them.

These poems were written over a period of nearly forty years, some of them under the influence of moments of painfully heightened emotion, some of them in celebration of great joy!

I make no excuses for the lack of insight the reader may perceive to be the stimulus for some, perhaps even much of the collection. I love them all as I love my children, because they seem to me an exaltation of the muse as she has come to me, a true record of the exalted moments of my adult life, and the poems which came out of them feel truly to be the children of my heart.

To Robert, David, Elsa, Ron, Fred, Alan, Bill, Doc and my family, especial thanks for your love and tolerance of my love and my muse.